


the duality of man

by Cypherr



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Good Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Vilbur, but in a good way i promise, i'm a tommy apologist what more can i say, sleepy bois inc is back in business baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cypherr/pseuds/Cypherr
Summary: "TommyInnit, you are hereby exiled from L'manburg and its surrounding populations."_Or, Ghostbur remembers the word exile and all that it entails
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 210
Kudos: 1919





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this wasn't supposed to exist but the idea wouldn't fucking leave me alone. I literally thought of this the MOMENT Ghostbur appeared while Dream was leading Tommy away and was like 'Nah, I won't write that" but here I am at 4 in the godamn morning days after the actual stream writing this awful fucking drabble

"TommyInnit, you are hereby exiled from L'manburg and its surrounding populations." He watched distantly from his spot on the grassy fields far below the towering wall of obsidian the five stood on. Exile. It was a familiar word, but he couldn't quite place why. It was as if it was on the edge of his awareness, lost in the black spots that resided in his fractured mind. He could see glimpses of cold stone walls and weak lantern light if he tried hard enough. Maybe the feeling of a broken ankle- he was less sure on that one.

He watched as the red-clad one- Tommy, his Toms- fell to his knees, head held high, looking to the people- Tubbo and Dream- who stood tall and proud in front of him. If he squinted, he could see a trail of tears leaking from his eyes, glinting in the fading light of the sun.

He could hear his desperate pleas in between his choked sobs and it... it sparked something in him. Memories long since passed and fuzzy in their age, but there, nevertheless. It was of Tommy, but he was baby-faced and tiny- a young boy no older than six, perhaps- and he had scraped his knees when he tripped over his own two feet while chasing a bee. He remembers the big, fat tears that rolled down his face as he hiccupped and cried to him that 'it hurts- make it stop, Wilby.' He recalls vowing, as he carried a trembling Tommy in his arms back to their family home, that he would make sure his little brother never had a reason to cry again. But, the memory didn't stop there- well, that one did, but not the experience.

He remembers the crushing sense of failure that weighed him down as he cradled a sixteen-year-old Tommy in a dim ravine- Pogtopia, yeah, that's what it was called- as he wailed after they had lost their home and their friends to a vile, horned man that they had once trusted. ( He couldn't- he couldn't recall their name, but the feelings his image provoked were terrible.) He remembers not knowing what to do to make any of it better- to keep his precious little brother happy. But the memories wouldn't stop after that. He continued to spiral as all the voids in his mind slotted into place once more.

The Revolutionary War.

The Duel.

The election.

Their exile.

Dream creating all of these paranoid thoughts until they were his own and he had left everything he cared about behind.

The Red Festival. 

_November Sixteenth_.

It hurt. It was like his entire body had been engulfed in flame- a vivid contrast from the never-ending chill that had seeped through his being after he'd died. He was- he was whole again and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Alivebur and Ghostbur were still parts of him, fighting for dominance on an even playing field. The glint of a netherite axe, glowing with enchantments, caught his attention, distracting him from the war raging in his mind, long enough to see that it was aimed right for his little brother.

He moved before he could think, the two halves of his consciousness setting aside their differences and unifying towards a singular goal- stoping that green fucking bastard. (Although, Ghostbur wouldn't phrase it quite so cruelly. Kindness was his main mission, after all.) Dream's wrist was in his hand, grip bruising, as his signature Pogtopia trench coat flapped in a wind only he could feel. He leaned close to Dream's face, ignoring the stiffened postures of those behind him. He only had one thing on his mind- too deadset in it to care.

"You will not touch my fucking brother, you bitch," he seethed, voice laced with all the violent madness of Alivebur and all the fury of the Ghostbur who just wanted peace and safety for everybody. He wished the blonde would take off his stupid fucking mask for once- he wanted to see his face- wanted him to show all the bitter emotions he tried to hide from the world.

"He's still exiled, Ghostbur." He couldn't help himself as Ghostbur stepped to the side- metaphorically- to let Alivebur take the reins, and cackled. Cackled like the madman he was. He could feel even the stoic, ever emotionless Dream stiffen in his grasp. Of course he would- he created that cackle after all. He knew what it meant- the horrors that it entailed.

"Oh, Dreamy boy! That's where you're wrong," he giggled quietly to himself, stepping impossibly closer to the man, nose nearly grazing his cracked porcelain mask.

"You think you can exile my Toms? And get away with it scot-free? Perhaps you're more mad than even I!" He exclaimed, grin wide as he watched Dream try to, fruitlessly, yank himself from his grip.

"No, no, you won't be able to. I won't let you. You forget, Mr. Admin, that I may not be the greatest example of sanity, but I _am_ the man you created. November sixteenth will be _child's play_ compared to what I'll fucking do to you all. Oh yes!" He whipped his head to Tubbo, the small, horned boy quaking in his improperly sized suit.

"Don't think you're exempt from your punishment just because you used to be Tommy's friend! You've not only betrayed him, my trust in you when I appointed you as President, but the very core values of L'manburg- the discs, and that you never, _ever_ , listen to anything this green fucker," a jerk of his head to the man in question, "says."

He let Dream go, backing away until he stood in front of a still sobbing Tommy, back to him as he faced the Admin and his new right-hand man- Tubbo- paying no mind to his son or Quackity.

"Remember, I'm dead- a ghost among the living- and that means that there's nothing you can do to stop me!" His gaze was deadly, promising that his threats were anything but empty.

He kneeled in front of Tommy, then, gaze soft and a small, gentle smile on his face.

"Hey, Toms." Said boy jerked his head up from where it had been buried in his hands, baby blue eyes red and puffy, brimmed with tears that still cascaded in rivers down his flushed cheeks.

"W- Wilby?" he murmured back, words unsteady and choked with sorrow. It only served to strengthen his resolve to burn this place to the fucking ground. He let his smile grow, tilting his head to the side as he did so.

"Yeah, Toms, it's me. We're gonna go on a vacation for a little bit, okay? It'll be like our old saying- Lads On Tour! Sounds fun, right?" He let Ghostbur's easy-going, fun-loving nature bleed into his tone, hoping it would ease Tommy's cries.

"But-" the teen started, lower lip trembling.

"Just a tiny break, I promise. It'll be like old times! Remember when we'd go camping- just the two of us- every time Techno and Phil had to go to a tournament? It'll be just like that." Tommy stared at him in silence for what seemed like ages- accompanied only by his stuttered breaths and harsh sniffles- before he nodded his agreement- a hardly perceptible shake of the head, really.

He reached out a hand to comb Tommy's hair out of his face and rested it there for a moment, heart breaking and fury rising as he leaned into it like an animal desperate for attention. He stood, then, holding out a hand to the still kneeling boy.

"Come on, Toms. I've got the perfect camping spot in mind." Shakey and unsure, Tommy's hand found his and he drug him up, letting him cling to his greyed fingers like a lifeline. He slowly led them down the rickety staircase to the awaiting plains below, letting Tommy burrow himself into his side as they walked, paying no mind to the stares of everyone behind them.

He looked back once they were far enough to see the top of the wall once more and met Dream's awaiting gaze. He smirked, mouthing the dreaded words they all knew by heart- "It was never meant to be." He turned back to his little brother after that, wrapping an arm around his hunched shoulders, ignoring the horrified faces of those they'd just left behind.

"Let's see if we can find some blue along the way, yeah? I like blue." Perhaps Alivebur wasn't such a bad guy in the end, after all. Perhaps, just maybe, he and Ghostbur would get along just fine if it meant Tommy was safe and happy as could be, tears and betrayal only a distant memory.


	2. antarctic anarchists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur needs more than himself to take care of Tommy and his promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote the first chapter it was just a stupid drabble but now I'm actually invested in this fucking idea so here's a part two

Tommy was pressed against his side, practically swallowed by Wilbur's coat- he had given it to the kid after the rain had started. It's not like he really had a use for it, anyway. They weren't in the best of shelters- only a small dirt hut he managed to quickly scrounge together. The wind still whistled through the cracks of the sod and the occasional water droplet made it through. It was cold- freezing, probably- based on Tommy's shivering, even in his sleep. Wilbur did his best to keep him comfortable- running a hand through his hair and humming an old yet familiar tune.

The fact that they had to be in this situation, though, in a land so far from home, cold and alone, was unforgivable. He understood Schlatt despite his hatred for the horned man. He understood that in order to gain and maintain power you had to get rid of all that opposed it. He and Tommy were that opposition. He understood. But Tubbo? Tubbo he could not wrap his head around. He had been a good kid, even when Wilbur had lost himself to the psychotic ramblings of a mad man. Sure, the fact that he was a young ram hybrid had always been a bit unsettling during the Manbug-Pogtopia war, but he was still Tommy's Tubbo despite everything. But Technoblade was always right, damn him, because absolute power absolutely corrupts even the best of people. Tubbo had willingly submitted himself to being bound by Dream's red puppet strings and Wilbur couldn't understand _why_.

He was brought out of his downward spiral by a ping from his communicator. He fished it out of a pocket on his coat, squinting at the bright screen. Once his eyes adjusted, he was met with a whisper from Technoblade.

'Where are you?' He hummed, taking another glance down at Tommy's small, trembling form.

'Don't have the coords. Near a lake, an enchanted forest, a broken portal, and a village. In a plains biome.' He sent back, watching the three dots in the corner appear, signaling that Techno was replying.

'ETA 10 minutes.' That was good. They needed all the help they could get. Tommy needed the comfort and familiarity of his older brother and Wilbur, well, Wilbur needed someone just as pissed off at L'manbug as he was- someone just as willing to tear it down.

He set the handheld device face down on the floor (if it could even be called that- it was just damp grass) and tugged Tommy closer, knowing he provided no bodily warmth but doing his best to comfort the sleeping boy the only way he could. He lit another torch, placing it much closer to where they sat than the one that they already had. It wasn't much, but he hoped it would chase the edges of the chill off. Perhaps Technoblade would bring something warmer.

It wasn't long before a head of pink hair was poking through their door. He smiled at his younger brother, holding a single finger in front of his lips to make sure the hybrid stayed quiet- it wouldn't do for him to wake Tommy, after all.

"What's goin' on, Ghostbur?" Techno whispered as he crouched down in front of them, unclipping his red velvet cape and draping it over Tommy's curled form. Wilbur smiled as the blonde seemed to snuggle into the new, cozy warmth the article provided.

"Dream and Tubbo exiled Toms." His voice was light, strained but airy, just as Ghostbur's had always been. Keeping Ghostbur at the forefront of his mind kept him calm- kept him from lashing out unnecessarily.

"Tubbo?" Techno breathed, ruby eyes wide. Wilbur hummed, running his hand through Tommy's hair once more, heart aching as he subconsciously leaned into the gentle motions.

"L'manburg won't get away with it." He looked back to the piglin, eyes locking. "Would you like some blue?" Techno's snort brought him back to reality.

"Right, sorry. No time from blue. Let Ghostbur too close." He suppressed a laugh.

"I take it that means you have your memories back, then, Wil?" Techno's voice was much softer than he could ever remember it being.

"Yeah. Too bad it had to be because of those good for nothing traitors back in that shithole country." He turned away, finding the dull, slightly wilted blades of grass far more interesting than having to meet his brother's gaze. Surprisingly, however, the man made no comment.

"You seem more solid, now." Wilbur supposed he was. He hadn't thought about it too much but he hadn't phased through anything since his speech. He was far from completely corporeal, he knew that much. He could still see through his hand and feet, he knew his eyes were still blank, his skin still a rotten grey. He knew he provided no warmth, just a chilling absence, but he could interact with the world without having to put all his effort into it. It was a small victory, he supposed.

"Tommy needs me." It was true. Tommy didn't need Ghostbur, but Alivebu had lost himself along the way. He needed Wilbur- the new Wilbur. Tommy was always clingy, even if he vehemently denied it, he needed people around him. Wil would be there for him. He had to be.

"He needs all of us." Wil nodded along, watching the slow rise and fall of the clothing that covered Tommy as he slept- a reassurance that the boy in his care was still alive.

"Should I-" Technoblade hesitated for a moment, seeming to regret speaking up in the first place before appearing to steel himself. "Should I get Phil?"

"As long as he's willing to let me destroy L'manburg and the Dream SMP? Yes." They lapsed into silence after that, listening to the sound of the pouring rain and the shuffling of mobs in the distance. He could see Techno's eyes droop and his shoulders slouch, shaking himself awake every time he began to nod off.

"Sleep, Techno. It's late and you've had to travel quite a ways."

" 'm not tired, Wil. I need to-" he cur him off by dragging him forward, tucking Techno's head under his chin, arm around his back keeping him in place.

"Sleep." And Techno was out like a light, and Wilbur had both of his sleeping younger brothers cuddled close.

-

It was well into the morning when he felt Tommy begin to stir, shifting around, pulling both his coat and Techno's cape closer, groaning, and trying to block out the light that made it into their dirt shack. He chuckled, running a hand through his messy blonde locks, smiling as Tommy looked up at him, eyes clouded with sleep and blinking tiredly at him.

"good morning, Toms," he whispered. Tommy just groaned, shoving his face back into his side. 

" 't's too early, Wilby," came Tommy's muffled reply moments later. He laughed, forgetting his other sleeping brother for a moment, who, unfortunately, awoke to the sound and the rapid movement of the chest he had been dozing on. A couple of seconds later had a disoriented, sleepy Technoblade rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake himself up, mumbling something about 'no good older brothers.'

"Techie?" Tommy shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. Tommy stared for a while, stock still. Wilbur wasn't sure the kid was even breathing. Eventually, after he assumed that Tommy cemented that what he saw was reality, he launched himself at the hybrid, nearly bowling the two over.

"Techie!" He goggled, shoving his head in the crook of Techno's neck, clinging onto his new Antarctic uniform like his life depended on it. Techno brought his arms up slowly, body still lagged from sleep, cradling his little brother close.

"Hey, Toms," the hybrid rasped. The peaceful silence was broken by a choked sob from Tommy, tears squeezing themselves out of his clamped shut eyes. He was shaking again, this time from the force of keeping in his cries. 

I'm sor-sorry, Tech. I-I shoulda listened. You were- you were-"

"Hush, Toms. You're alright." Techno pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"But I-"

"You're home, now, Toms. It's okay." With that admission, Tommy broke down harder, body trembling and clinging impossibly closer as he wailed.

He was concerned at the heartbreaking display, but ultimately knew that Tommy was safe in his brother's arms, and that this was what he needed. He took the time, since Techno was occupied with taking care of their younger brother, to pull out his communicator and send a message to Phil.

'With Tech and Tommy. Come.' Even minutes later he never got pinged with a response, but he knew it had been read and Phil was already on his way.

Eventually, Tommy's cries subsided, and Wilbur was there offering the comfort of his coat once more. When Tommy reached for it with an unsteady hand, he hushed him and helped him slip it on despite his weak protests. The blonde yawned, rubbing his eyes, looking so long. He watched as Techno began to card a hand through his hair and Tommy leaned into it without seeming to notice he was.

"Rest, Toms," the hybrid murmured.

"Jus' woke up," Tommy slurred, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open as he blinked slowly. Wilbur moved to sit next to the two, grabbing one of Tommy's hands in his larger one, gently rubbing his thumb over his bandaged knuckles. He began to hum an old song of his, one he knew Tommy knew well, and the boy slumped forward, eyes shut, asleep once more in the arms of his piglin brother.

-

It was just after noon when Phil arrived, swooping down from the clear skies. Tommy was still passed out in Techno's arms, the hybrid almost beginning to regret letting the blonde sleep there as his limbs grew numb.

Phil arrived, ever prepared, with a leather satchel filled with supplies- namely food and fresh water, something none of the trio had thought to grab previously.

What's the occasion?" Phil asked, tone strained with a forced grin. Wilbur huffed a dejected laugh.

"You up for a little anarchy?" Techno rumbled, voice low in order to not wake Tommy.

"A little?" Wilbur snorted. "I won't be satisfied until the whole SMP is demolished." Phil just looked between the two, eyes wide.

"I take it there's something I'm missing?" The winged man spoke up after a tense, likely confused, silence. However, it was at that moment that Tommy decided he was finally going to join the land of the living. (Perhaps that joke was said in poor taste, himself being a ghost and all.)

Tommy pulled away from Techno's shoulder, rubbing his eyes to get rid of some of the grogginess that clung to him. 

"Wha's goin'..." he trailed off, gaze seeming to land on Phil.

"Hey, Toms," Phil smiled, tone gentle and warm as always.

"Dad!" Tommy exclaimed, wiggling out of Techno's grasp to launch himself into their father's.

"Bit tight, mate," Phil wheezed, but the grin never left his face. Tommy responded by shoving his face further into Phil's shoulder.

"Missed you," Wilbur heard Tommy's muffled reply. Phil seemed to melt at the admission, wrapping his wings around them. 

"Missed you too, bud. I'm sorry." They sat in silence for a minute before Tommy composed himself and pulled away.

"Enough of this fuckin' cryfest, what are we all gathered here for?" He chuckled, but it was a hollow, almost crushing sound.

"You were the only one crying, child," Techno drawled from next to him, huffing a laugh as Tommy spluttered an incoherent, indignant response.

"It's a family reunion!" Wilbur shouted, grin wide, before anyone else could say anything, shooting a pointed look to Techo and Phil to _not say a fucking word in front of Tommy_. Tommy huffed and rolled his eyes, gaze landing on the supplies that Phil had laid out.

"You brought food!" He yelled, his excited, over the top attitude back. Wil handed a loaf of freshly baked bread to his two younger brothers, smile gentle. 

"Yup! You two eat up! Phil and I are gonna go find some more blue!" It was a lie, of course, but Tommy didn't need to know that. The blonde just nodded, already distracted by the food in his hands.

When they were out the door, under the bright sky once more, they could hear Techno and Tommy's muffled conversation.

"He's really obsessed with blue, huh?" Rang Tommy's higher-pitched voice.

"You know what he said to me when I got here last night?" 

"What?" It sounded like Tommy had food stuffed in his mouth. and knowing the kid, he probably did.

"So I arrive, middle of the night, like 'what's all this, then?' And you know what he says? 'Would you like some blue?'" Tommy's barking laughter brought a smile to his face as it faded off the farther away from the hut they got. He knew Techno would rather not be conversing, but he was glad the piglin was doing his best to distract Tommy and keep him in good spirits.

"So what is going on, Ghostbur?" Phil sighed, absent-mindedly kicking at the tall blades of grass that swayed in the cool breeze.

"It's just Wilbur, now, Dad." Phil's head shot up, ocean blue eyes wide and teary.

"So you-"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's better this way."

"But you're-"

"Alivebur wasn't Wilbur- not in the end. He- he had lost himself so completely- had given away his very identity to Dream's puppetry. Sure, Ghostbur wasn't great either, but he was happy and free from the weight that had crushed Alivebur in the end." Wilbur shrugged, kneeling down to pluck a cornflower from the ground.

"So you're not...?" Phil trailed off, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to ask, but Wil understood anyway.

"No, I'm not- I'm not Alivebur, but I'm not Ghostbur wither- though I am still dead, obviously. I mean, I am- both of them, I mean- but it's... I don't know how to explain it. It's like a balance." Wil crushed to pretty blue petals in his hand, staining his faded grey fingers a striking blue, almost the color of lapis.

"When I saw Tommy being exiled-"

"Exiled?!" Wilbur held a hand up, signaling he would explain.

"When I saw what was happening, it was like a dam broke, but instead of being dead with all of Alivebur's memories, it was like I had been split in half. So yeah, I'm Alivebur, and I'm Ghostbur, but I'm neither one alone. I'm just- I'm just Wilbur." Phil sat next to him, gently picking up his blue-stained hand and entangling their fingers in a silent show of support.

"Why was Tommy exiled?" The words were quiet, but they still stung. The very thought of what had happened to his little brother- _again_ \- killed him inside. (Metaphorically, of course, 'cause he was, well, he was dead.)

"I'm not- well, I'm not really sure on the details of the excused, but it boils down to Dream. It's _always_ Dream. The green fucker enticed Tubbo with his pretty little words and his fantastic deals, and now Tubbo is just another one of his hanging puppets," he huffed, squeeIng Phil's hand, hunching over to rip out grass with his other.

"Dream got Tubbo to willingly betray and exile Tommy from the entire Dream SMP. They- they already know that I'm back and planning to attack, but I- I need _help_. _Tommy_ needs help, Dad. He's got no one else but us." Phil squeezed back, racing out and grasping his other hand, staring him straight in the eye.

"I promise you that I'll be there- for all three of you. I won't let any of you down again." He hadn't realized he was crying until there was a warm, callused hand cupping his cheek and wiping away a tear.

"Let's all regroup back at Techno's base, okay? It's a bit farther out, but it's safer, I promise." Wilbur nodded along, still leaning into his father's hand.

"Let's get the Antarctic Empire back in business, hmm?" Wil choked out a laugh, dead eyes lighting up at the prospect of such a familiar concept coming to fruition again. Notch, he remembered the Empire back in the glory days of what he had called SMP Earth. The bastards had taken of the world- there was no one more powerful, more cunning, or more willing to fuck shit up than they were.

"First stop, the world. Next stop, Dream SMP?" He giggled, warmth filling his cold, dead heart as he watched Phil's eyes crinkle as he grinned. He'd missed his family- more than anything.

"Not even Dream can stop the Antarctic Anarchists."


	3. home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sleepy bois were back together and chaotic as ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyy an update for hollow AND this in one day? I'm on a mother fucking ROLL  
> this chapter is a LOT less angsty because oh my FUCK my soul needs a break

"Where are we going?" Tommy asked for the hundredth time, still clinging on to Techno's back as the man had offered him a piggyback ride before they left, and really, anyone who refused one from _the_ Technoblade was a Notched damned fool. Techno sighed, the sound bordering on a growl.

"You'll see where we get there, brat." Tommy pouted, looking every bit the teen boy he was, cheeks flushed and puffed slightly, bottom lip protruding just som as he huffed, resting his face against the piglin's fur clad shoulder.

"I hate surprises," he grumbled, baby blue eyes trained towards the ground in mock defiance. Wilbur chuckled, floating over to ruffle his messy blonde hair, grinning triumphantly at the indignant squawk it produced.

He and Tommy truly had it good though, not having to trudge through the ankle deep snow like Techno and Phil were. He'd almost feel bad for them if it wasn't kind of funny. The two were also dressed for the weather, polar bear fur lined, royal blue outfits reminiscent of their old Empire regalia. Tommy was still only in Wil's old jacket, which, while comfortable, was not near enough to keep out the biting wind or the creeping chill of the tundra.

It wasn't too much longer before they passed through a cozy village, a few of its residents waving at the group as they walked the winding, gravel paths of the town, trekking on towards Techno's cottage. Wilbur could see smoke rising in the distance, the compact home coming into view. Tommy perked up at the sight, pushing himself up using Techno's shoulders for leverage to get a better view of it.

"Damn bitch you live like this?" Tommy said out of nowhere, the bizarre nature of the sentence caused Phil to choke out a laugh before doubling over, wheezing.

"Oh Notch-" another wheeze, " _Tommy_." Phil chuckled, standing up straight once more, wiping a tear from his eye.

"What'd I say?" the blonde asked, ever oblivious. Techno snorted, shaking his head in fond exasperation, moving to continue on their path towards his 'retirement' home.

"Hey, Tommy! Look! Turtles!" Wil called, pointing down towards the small enclosure that, quite frankly, housed far too many of the large reptiles. He watched as Techno crouched down to let Tommy frantically scramble off of his back. Stumbling in the snow a bit, he raced over, kneeling at the edge of the hell, a look of wonder on his grinning face.

"D'you think they're friendly?" His voice was a near whisper and the sheer adoration that laced his tone brought a smile to Wilbur's face.

"I dunno. We can ask Techno later. We should probably head inside." The light had begun to fade from the sky, painting the snowing dunes and plains in vibrant hues of reds, oranges, and golds. Tommy nodded, reaching up towards Wilbur's offered hand to haul him up.

Just as a particularly harsh bout of wind blew thriyg their hair and chill their- well, Tommy's- bones, Techno called out to them.

"Hurry up! It looks like a storm's going to hit soon!" Looking to the sky, the hybrid was right. There were dark, menacing clouds in the distance, a stark contrast to the bright sunset. He looked over to Tommy, the boy frowning, likely at the concept of having to leave the turtles he _just_ discovered.

"Race you there?" He challenged. The blonde's face morphed into a confident, triumphant grin.

"You don't have a chance, old man." Then they were off, shoving each other lightly to try and get one step ahead. It only resulted in them tumbling into the snow together, only a few blocks away from Technoblade and Phil. They turned to each other once they had righted themselves. blinking owlishly. Wilbur broke first, snortin ginto his hand before they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"I totally won that, you bitch."

"I'm taller than you- I win by default."

"How does that-"

They were tanked up by the back of their shirts by an unimpressed Technoblade, the piglin glaring at them in mock offense.

"Children, the both of you."

"Dad, Techno's bullying me," Tommy deadpanned, straight at their father, who was, at the moment, trying not to double over in laughter again. 

Wilbur turned intangible again, slipping out of his brother's grasp and gloating above the pearly white snow below, grinning at tommy's expression of betrayal.

"That's not fair, you asshole," the kid managed to get out before he screamed, having been tossed over Techno's shoulder like- ironically- a sack of potatoes.

"You stupid son of a bitch, put me down!" He yelled, pounding at Techno's back, the man seeming to be completely unfazed by the action.

"Move a little to the left, would you? I've got a bit of an itch there." Phil lost it then, the culmination of their unbridled chaos making the man descent into another fit of wheezing, sounding not unlike a deflating balloon, his blue and white striped bucket hat falling to the ground as he doubled over.

"Look what you've done- you've killed the poor man," Wilbur snorted. Tommy was still grumbling, although he had given up his fruitless endeavor of escaping.

The cottage was cozy, although the pet enderman and the zombies groaning below were interesting choices, to say the least.

"Why's he named Edward?" Tommy asked from his position on the floor. (He had been dumped unceremoniously on the flor once they had all hobbled inside, squawking his indignation for all the world to hear.)

"Do you ever stop talking?" Techno deadpanned, already working on restocking the dying fire. Phil had gone into the kitchen to prepare a warm meal for them all. (Well, for the living members, at least. He didn't technically need to eat anymore, being dead and all. He missed the taste of warm stew and even the awfulm room temperature undercooked potatoes Technoblade was infamous for.) Tommy huffed, throwing the nearest object- a stray stone- at the hybrid's head, missing by a comical amount, before following Phil into the kitchen to help (terrorize) him.

Techno visibly slumped once he was sure Tommy wasn't coming back, posture reeking of defeat and decades old exhaustion.

"Hey," Wilbur murmured, laying an eye cold but solid hand on his shoulder.

"Should I have taken him with me when I fled? Should I have fought harder to prevent L'manburg's new government? Would it have been better if I never fought at all?" The words were quiet, but slurred together in Techno's haste to get them out as fast as he could, tone raspy and filled with solemn regret. Wilbur kneeled down, facing the piglin, reaching out to weakly cup his younger brother's cheeks.

"None of this is your fault, Tech. I'm so proud of you, okay? I know it was hard for you to stand up for yourself, and even if it was against us, I'm so very proud that you fought for what you believe in. The fault for all of this lands on me, so don't go blaming yourself for any of this, m'kay?"

"But I-"

"Who started L'manburg? Who brought you into the war into the first place? Who left the two of you for my own selfish desires?" Wilbur wiped away a lone tear that fell from Techno's ruby eyes, smiling softly at the hopless expression he wore, hoping to reassure his little brother with the action.

"The voices are so loud, Wilby," Techno whimpered. Wil brushed a stray pink hair from his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his scarred forehead.

"We're here now, Techno. We can't change the past, but we _can_ dictate our futures. We can choose to take care of Tommy, now. We can make up for the mistakes of our past." Techno sighed, closing his eyes as he nodded, leaning into Wilbur's touch before pulling away, gaze steeled with new, unwavering resolve.

"Promise?" Techno breathed, pinky held up as if they were young children playing with wooden swords and having snowball fights again. But, it had always been their unwavering pact throughout the years, so he intertwined his ashen grey pinky with Techno's keratin covered one.

"I Promise." Techno smiled. It was a small thing, really, a slight upturn of the lips, the revealing of a scant few centimeters more of tusk, but it was genuine and purely, wholly, Technoblade.

"What the fuck are you two assholes planning in here?" Tommy barked, grin audible, as he stomped into the room with all the grace an elegance of a stampedeing ravager, two bowls of freshly made, steaming mushroom stew in hand.

"Ugh, the child has returned," Wilbur groaned playfully, smirk tugging at his face.

"Okay bitch, see if I give you any stew, then." Wilbur morphed his expression into one of shocked, completely overdramatic horror.

"Oh no! Whatever shall I do!" He grinned, eyes alight with teasing malice. "I guess I'll just have to tell dad."

"Wait, no, Wilby- I didn't mean it! I swear!" Tommy practically whined, rushing to set down the wooden bowls on the table situated in the center of the room.

"Didn't mean what, Tommy?" Wilbur cackled as he watched the color drain from Tommy's face as he whipped around to face their father, Techno snorting in amusement at their brother's plight.

"H-hey, dad, didn't see ya there. What's up?" Wilbur lost it when Tommy awkwardly waved finger duns at Phil, leaning almost totally on Techno as he heaved with laughter, nearly in tears.

"Oh my _Notch_ , Tommy, you're so fucking stupid," Wil wheezed. Tommy scoffed, stomping his foot like a demanding toddler.

"I take offense to that, manic bitch!" Wilbur only cackled harder, Techno having to put actual effort into keeping them upright, now.

"Don't call your brothers names, Thomas," Phil called from where he was setting the table, mirth shining in his ocean blue eyes. Tommy spluttered, the blonde going red in the face.

"But they're- they're fucking _cyberbullying_ me, but in like, real life!"

"So, normal bullying then, Tomathy?" Techo drawled, eyebrow raised in mock judgement, the patronizing nickname they had given the kid when he was still a bratty toddler rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. Wilbur knocked them both on the ground the piglin letting out a quiet 'oof' from the force of the impact, Wilbur burying his face in Techno's chest, shoulders heaving with silent chuckles. His arms were wrapped tight around his younger brother, holding him close as he giggled at their kid brother's antics.

"All of you are ridiculous. Come eat before it gets cold." Phil sighed, but his tone held nothing but a fond warmth. Wilbur was tossed to the side then, the brunette squawking as he flailed, completely undignified for a man that usually held himself in such high regard.

"Techie!" He whined from his position on the floor, pouting at Techno's unimpressed expression before said man walked over to the table, completely ignoring him.

"serves you right, bitch," Tommy beamed around the spoon in his mouth. Wilbur glared, no real heat behind the look, as he slumped over in the last chair, head resting on the table next to his still steaming bowl of soup.

"Wilbur, quit being dramatic. Eat your soup. I promise Tommy didn't poison it." Phil shook his head, rolling his eyes, but the small smile that rested on his scruffy face betrayed his amusement. Wilbur shoved a spoonful of stew in his mouth, nearly moaning at that taste. It had been fucking _ages_ since he had had dad's cooking.

"Sounds like something someone who let soup get poisoned would say," Wilbur said, absolutely not done with his dramatics. (He would never be, and they all knew that.) Phil didn't even bother to comment, only shaking his head once again with a sigh.

It was about halfway through their meal that the wind began to howl outside, snow beating against the frosted windows. Tommy stared out at the flurry of white, seemingly lost in thought, half eaten stew forgotten.

"Do you think... do you think we could play outside in the snow tomorrow? Like we used to in..." he trailed off, voice small and quiet, nothing like the loud, brash teen Wilbur had practically raised.

"If the blizzard has stopped by then, yeah," Techno muttered, reaching out across the table to grab one of Tommy's hands in a rare show of affection. Tommy smiled, cheeks flushing as he looked down at their intertwined hands.

"Thanks," he whispered, unshed tears shining in his baby blue eyes. Phil stood and silently collected their bowls, knowing their appetites had been lost for the time being. Wilbur reached out, laying his transparent hand on top of theirs, gripping tight, knowing his touch was chilling but hoping it brought comfort all the same.

"No need, Toms. We're here now," he murmured just loud enough for the boy to hear. Tommy sniffed and wiped his eyes, smiling softly as Phil wrapped his arms around his thin shoulders, head resting on top of his.

It was all sickeningly domestic and it healed a crack in his heart he hadn't realized was there. It had been a long, long time since his family had been together. He wished that Fundy could be here to see it- to know that they weren't all crazy, bloodthirsty monsters. To see that Wilbur loved him. He missed Fundy, truly. His son was always his most beloved. He had build L'manburg for him, after all. Had build him a home. He wanted to fix things between them, to reconcile the bond that they once had, but he knew he could only fix one thing at at a time, so he just smiled at his younger brothers and father, choosing to ignore the fiery hot tear that rolled it's way down his face. They were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the 'cyberbullying' part was totally inspired/taken from a really good fic on here that I CANNOT remember the name of so if you know what fic I'm talking about, please tell me so I can credit TwT
> 
> Tommy's "Damn bitch you live like this?" was also taken from one of his streams. I remember reading the in-game chat as he was doing something with Techno and just seeing Phil going "damn bitch you live like this?" and Ranboo just going "yes" I still don't know what the context was but it was so fucking funny


	4. forever and always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> us against the world, forever and always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I needed a break from the angst last chapter? I fucking lied  
> buckle up for some Alivebur sad boi hours in this one bitches  
> the timeline is mine to control fuck you

It was late- though there were still many hours before the sun would rise- and they had all gone to bed hours ago. (The living members, at least. Wilbur couldn't exactly sleep- one of the many downsides of being deceased.) That's why, when he heard the scraping of stone, panicked breathing, and quiet footsteps downstairs, he was confused and more than a little concerned.

He turned himself intangible, making sure he was invisible- a ghostly perk that came in handy more than he'd like to admit- before floating downstairs- or, well, down ladder- away from where he had been absently playing with Techno's hair while his younger twin slept. The stone bricks that led to Techno's basement had been set to the side, thrown away in what was clearly a haste to get there. The zombies below were undisturbed, though, groaning and babbling to each other, straining to get out of their wooded prisons as always. (Zombies had always disturbed him. He's glad he turned into a ghost instead of one of the walking corpses.) The stone that led to Techno's cellar, though, was _also_ misplaced.

Floating down further, he was met with a silently sobbing Tommy curled around Techno's pet cow. _Wilbur_ didn't know that Techno even had a cow, let alone that Tommy knew. Though he supposed the issue at hand was not the mystery of Techno's pet habits, but the fact that Tommy was clearly in distress. The animal seemed to be comforting Tommy, in a way. Her head rested on his back as the boy had his arms wrapped around her neck. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply, her tail curled around the teen's ankle where he kneeled beside her. (She was honestly rather large and he wondered how Techno had managed to get here down here and where he had found the animal in the first place.)

"Tommy?" He whispered, stepping down onto the ground, turning himself visible.

"Hi, Wilby," Tommy croaked, never moving from where he had buried himself in the cow's neck. Wilbur frowned. Tommy had been exceedingly upbeat before they had all retired for the night. He wondered what had happened to change that. He moved to sit next to the kid, leaning back against the cow's flank.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong, Toms?" It was silent for a while, accompanied only by the occasional sniffle or harsh breath. 

"Bad dream," the blonde mumbled. Wilbur hummed, pressing his shoulder against Tommy's to try and offer some comfort to the boy.

"It's just..." he trailed off, as if he were trying to piece together his thoughts as he said them. "I didn't think he'd ever betray me like that. He always told me it was us against the world, Wilby." Wilbur knew, without a doubt, that he was talking about the current president of L'manburg- Tubbo. His ex best friend.

"It hurts."

"I know, Toms. I'm sorry." They stayed quiet after that, Tommy still seeking comfort in the gentle embrace of Techno's pet cow- Herobrine, the thing probably reminded him of is old pet cow, Henry. He remembers how excited he was when he had found the lone animal, stopping Wilbur from slaying the best for meat and leather with an exclamation of 'cows are friends, not food, Wilby!' It hadn't been too long after they had migrated to the Dream SMP that it had occurred. He remembers rolling his eyes, but being unable to resist Tommy's infectious enthusiasm, letting the young boy of ten put the surprisingly docile animal on a lead and walk it back home. He never had the heart to tell the kid that Henry was most definitely not male. He had loved that cow to pieces and it tore him apart when Sapnap had killed it.

By the time he took another look at Tommy, the boy's breathing had evened out, eyes shut and muscles relaxed. He was asleep. He smiled, a somber thing, really, and weren't to retrieve Tommy's new cloak from where it rested on a hook by the front door. It was lined with polar bear fur like Techno and Phil's ere, the royal blue material adorned with the flag of the old Antarctic Empire. Tommy had been so elated when he was handed the article earlier that night, running his hands over the velvety material with reverence, grin blinding when he spotted the old insignia. He knew why, too. The empire was the last time they had all been together as a family.

They were there for about two years before Phil and Techno left without a word, only an off handed comment of 'adventure' to soothe the ache their absence left behind. Tommy had been seven at the time and he had been devastated. He was faced with the constant question of 'did they leave because of me?' and Wilbur never had the heart to answer. He didn't _know_. They'd picked the blonde up out of the server hub when he was four, and then, at the tender age of seven, both his father and his fucking _twin_ left without even an excuse. They never even bothered to send a postcard.

It was a few years after that, spent alone and desperate in the remnants of the Antarctic with their old friend Pete being the only occasional visitor, that Sally had contacted him again. It was out of the blue and startled him, to be frank. He hadn't heard word from the shifter since she had disappeared one night after they had... well, it didn't matter. She begged him to come to this place she called the Dream SMP, and he wouldn't have gone, not after the heartbreak she had caused him when he was a young lad in his early twenties, but it was for his _son_. He hadn't known that he had even _had_ a son.

Tommy was in hysterics when he saw that Wilbur was packing. It took three hours to calm the boy down, promising that Wilbur was, under no circumstance, going to leave Tommy behind. They were simply going on an adventure themselves, to a new, sunny land, so Tommy could meet his nephew. He can still hear the conversation ring in his ears as if it were yesterday.

_"What's a nephew, Wilby?" Wilbur snorted, a small smile gracing his face._

_"Well, you know how you're my brother?" A nod. "It means that_ your _nephew is_ my _son. So, you're an uncle!" Tommy blinked owlishly at him, not quite seeming to grasp the concept._

_"You have a son?" The boy asked finally, head tilted to the side as if he were trying to imitate a puppy._

_"Yup! His name's Fundy and he's four."_

_"Ooh. When can we leave!?" Wilbur laughed, hugging his excited little brother ( ~~his first son~~ ) close. _

_"Soon, Toms. Soon."_

It all seems so long ago, now and he supposed he was. It had been a long, long time since he had bet the small fox shifter, left alone and scared by a riverbank, calling out for his mother and the man that she had told the kid would come for him. It was strange, at first, getting to know the child he didn't know even existed a scant few months prior, but taking on the role of a parent had almost been second nature to him. ( ~~He had raised Tommy, after all.~~ ) 

He remembered that Tommy had been so upset when the fox had outgrown him within a matter of years, older than Tommy himself was. The very nature of shifters was strange, he supposed, to those unfamiliar with how fast they matured. Now fundy, his darling little champion, wasn't too much younger than he himself was. But Tommy had had a home- a family- and he hadn't had to answer that dreaded question since the day they had walked into the swirling green portal that lead them to the lands that they now occupied.

The old, rotten, and festering wound of abandonment and betrayal stung, engulfing his fragile heart, and he unwittingly shoved Ghostbur to the outreaches of his psyche as he carefully draped the cape over Tommy, making sure it wouldn't fall as the boy slept. The cow seemed to thank him with a slow blink, but the fire that raged within distracted him. It was the same, burning insanity that coursed through his veins as he lined a nation with TNT and carved letter after letter, line after line, of the heartfelt anthem he had written for his _son ~~s~~_ , for his _home_ \- for _Alivebur_.

He was drawn out of his self destructive mental spiral by the cow snorting, her tail snapping fiercely on the ground. He took the hint, phasing out of the cellar and into the harsh storm outside. He was no stranger to blizzards, as the Empire had had plenty. During the winter months, you'd be lucky if you got a week without one. The one that raged around him seemed almost calm compared to the ones he was used to experiencing.

He remembers the first time he had ever experienced one. It had been about three years after Phil had found him and Technoblade in the Nether. He had seen snow, of course, although at first, Techno had been the only one brave enough to traverse the strange, new, ice cold substance, but he had never seen the flurries howl and whip at the world around them with such ferocity. It was terrifying watching the lanterns shake and hearing the roof creak under the strain. Phil had assured them that it was fine, but Wilbur still huddled protectively over his younger twin, as if to shield him from the world.

He grew almost numb to them, though, after they had moved to the Antarctic. He, of course, wasn't there all of the time, with his own faction to run and all, but he was there often enough. Tommy, while he hated the way the wind would screech and the lights would flicker in their glass cages, would always be so excitable until the storm blew over. A blizzard meant fresh snow to play in, after all.

Watching Tommy make snowmen and chuck snowballs at anything unlucky enough to move always brought warmth to his heart, but it was nothing compared to listening to the kid rant about his friends. He remembered them well. 'Business Bay' they had called themselves. It was a silly little group, the other 'members' thankfully a bit older than his young, reckless brother, but Tommy was had just been ecstatic to have _another_ group of people that cared about him. Wilbur was just happy he finally had more than just himself to look after the rambunctious little kid.

The reminder that even before Technoblade and Phil had walked off into the night, he never had any help with raising ~~his son~~ Tommy stung more than he cared to admit, tearing open cracks and fissures in his heart that had long since closed- to because they had healed, but because he had to move on eventually. He wasn't sure why he was even so emotional about this. He had forgiven them ages ago. Was it because he was dead now? Was it the fact that Ghostbur constantly lodged pleasant memories in the forefront of his mind, leaving room for all the trauma and setting, icy rage he had accumulated over the years to fester and grow into something much bigger? He was _happy_ that they were all back together, united once more in a small cottage in a snow tundra, so why was his mind screaming at him like this? Warning him of betrayal, of deceit, of lies. He could faintly hear Dream whisper in his ear, as if the masked man was behind him and he was back in the cramped stone ravine of Pogtopia.

_"You can always blow it all to pieces, Wilbur No one can hurt you if there's no one_ left _to betray you_ _."_

It brought back the reason why he had called Technoblade to the SMP in the first place. He knew, before he had succumbed to his inevitable madness completely, that he needed someone there to take care of Tommy. He knew his time was drawing to a close- he couldn't resist Dream forever- but his little brother- no, his _son_ \- needed somebody. He was still just a lad at sixteen; he shouldn't be left to suffer alone at the hands of those who would only seek to use him for their own sick, selfish desires, and, despite the hatred he harbored in his heart, knew the only person in all of Minecraft he could rely on was his stupid fucking twin. That pig bastard.

He was honestly surprised when he showed up, laid back and carefree, as if it hadn't been _nine fucking years_. He was _livid,_ but Tommy was _so excited_ to have his 'Techie' back that he didn't have the heart to start up an argument. He had hoped, once he began to entangle himself in Dream's red puppet strings, that Techno would get the message and _take care of his Tommy_ , but here he was, wandering the world as a _ghost_ after Phil killed him and Techno tried to _murder_ Tommy with _Withers,_ his ~~son? little brother?~~ Tommy exiled from the home Wilbur had tried to build for him and Fundy, back together with the family that acted as if they weren't shards of broken glass from different mirrors.

He could feel Ghostbur clawing at the edges of his psyche, desperate shouts of 'blue' barely managing to echo around his skull.

"Wilbur?" He turned his head, glazing back over his shoulder, only to be met with a distressed Philza. The sight nearly made him scoff, but he had better control over himself than that. What right did Phil have to worry about him _now_ , after he _abandoned_ him and Tommy, and _stabbed him through the fucking abdominal cavity_ instead of, oh you know, being a decent fucking father for once in his life and _helping him_ instead?

"What, Phil?" He knew he sounded tired and hollow- an empty shell of the bright personality that had slowly been snuffed out over the years.

"Let's go inside, Wil. It's not exactly pleasant out here." He's sure the calm, fatherly tone would have soothed Wilbur's mind and brought a smile to his face, but he was _Alivebur_ , and Alivebur was bitter and furious with turbulent emotion he had suppressed over the years, only to be let out with his unbridled mania.

"I'm dead, Phil. It doesn't matter." Phil sighed, resting a clawed hand on his shoulder, as if the gentle action was meant to reassure him.

"It matters to me, son."

"Don't fucking call me that!" He snapped, violently jerking away from Phil's outstretched hand, gripping his dark, muted hair in ashen fists. He could practically smell the gunpowder that they reeked of- knew that they had reeked of it when he was alive.

"Wha-"

"No! No no no no no! You _left us_!" He screamed, voice cracking as his vocal cords strained with the pitch. "And then you come back here! Acting like you both haven't been gone for _nine fucking years!_ " He sobbed, form flickering between being visible and inhabiting the spectral plane.

"Did you see how happy he was to see the both of you? Finally, at last, _my Toms_ has the people he looked up to most in life _actually give a shit about him!_ "

"That's not true, Wil." Phil's tone was dangerously low- not unlike the one he used when he was trying to talk down a _threat_.

"Oh, _isn't it?_ Because last time I checked, I'm the one who bloody raised the kid!"

"You know we had to go, Wilbur."

"No, Phil, no I _don't_. You and Techno left without a _fucking word!_ Tommy asked every day for a _year_ whether or not you were coming back and I didn't know what to tell him! I didn't know what to tell him when he asked if both of you left because of _him!_ So tell me, Philza, what I _know_.

"I-"

"Wilby?" Tommy was standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he watched the two scream at each other in the whipping wind and unforgiving flurry. He was clutching his cape close and he could see a slightly reddened indent on his cheek from where his face had been pressed up against the cow's collar.

Wilbur's demeanor softened immediately, completely disregarding the green clad man behind him, letting Ghostbur slot back into place as if it were second nature. He kneeled down in front of Tommy, taking note of a bleary looking Techno standing behind him, netherite sword clutched in an unsteady hand.

"Hey, Toms. Did you have another nightmare?" Tommy shook his head, reaching out to grab Wil's hand in his own trembling one.

"I heard you yelling and I got scared." His voice was meek, and it reminded him of when Tommy was younger and he would crawl into is bed at night, thinking he was sneaky but having less stealth than a ravager on fire, shaking and sobbing, but insisting he was a 'big man' who was just 'making sure Wilbur was okay' as he hid himself from the world in the brunette's tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, Toms. I didn't mean to wake you. Let's go back to bed, okay?" Wilbur practically melted when Tommy threw his arms around his neck, burying his head there as he shook with silent sobs. Wilbur cooed, wrapping an arm around his back and cupping one behind his knees, taking the boy up with him when he stood. He knew Tommy was genuinely distressed when he didn't even complain about being carried.

"I thought you were gonna leave me, Wilby," Tommy whined when Wilbur had sat them down on the temporary bed they had set up for the boy by the hearth. He hummed, running an icy hand through tousled blonde locks, absently noting a few stray, brown hairs from the livestock in the cellar.

"Do you remember our promise, Tommy?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

_"Are they ever coming back, Wilby?"_

_"It doesn't matter. You know why? Because it's us against the world, forever and always."_

"U-us against the world?"

"Forever and always."

Wilbur pretended not to hear the choked sob from the two men behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was not supposed to exist- at least not like this. I sat down and I was like okay! Tommy going to Techno's cellar cow when he's upset? poggers HC! let's write some hurt/comfort babey!!!!!!!!!!! But I am clearly not processing something because it turned into this shitshow. I wrote this in 3 hours. I am not sure if I am okay


	5. snow days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd be there for Tommy. They had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is chapter one of two that I'm posting today. it is a MASSIVE update and I'm really not sure how I wrote this in like two days. This one basically just wraps up the last chapter, but the next one has a LOT of plot

Wilbur still rocked back and forth, carding his ashen fingers through greasy, blonde locks, humming an old tune despite the fact that Tommy had long since fallen back asleep. He made the mental note, taking in the state of Tommy's hair and the light sheet of dust that caked his pale skin, to run the boy a bath in the morning. He felt the bed dip next to him, but he never looked away from his little boy- the teen he had forced to mature far too fast.

"Why are you so... fatherly?" Techno whispered into the silence, words hardly carrying over the crackling of the fire a few blocks away. The question, despite its blunt nature, was not harsh or demanding, but one seeming to be born of horrified curiosity.

"I'm the only one he's ever had," he whispered back, voice now devoid of the potent, consuming fury that had inhabited it earlier, and was back to the light, airy tone he had grown used to as Ghostbur.

"Phil never came back?" Techno seemed to be bordering on tears, his tone watery and filled with emotions he had not often heard from his twin.

"Was he supposed to?" He accused, words sharp despite their volume.

"I..." He started, the hybrid seeming to try and gather his thoughts, or at the very least, trying to word them in a way that made sense. "I ran off because I wanted to keep you and Toms safe. They were- they were so _loud_ , and all I could see was you, Tommy, and Phil's blood painting the walls," Techno sniffled, discreetly wiping his eyes.

"I got away as fast as I could the moment I knew I couldn't control myself for much longer. But Phil came after me, tried to convince me to come back. It was a storm just like this one, and he had to shout at me just to be heard over the howling wind. He hadn't even been dressed for the weather- clad in just his usual green robes. But I- it was all too much and I snapped." He didn't go into any more detail, but Wilbur didn't need him to. He understood. Few people stood a chance when the voices' ceaseless demands for blood grew into a roaring chant that drowned out the rest of the world.

"I thought- I thought that by me staying away, you guys could be safe, and- and happy. I didn't mean to be gone for so long. I got caught up in another war, but there was never any bloodshed, just a battle of wills, and so the chant never _stopped_. By the time that it was all over and the chatter had quieted down, I thought that since I had been away for such a long while, that you wouldn't want me back." Techno sounded ashamed of himself. Sounded as if he had had another choice in the matter.

"Why didn't Phil come back?" Techno's voice cracked, a strangled sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Wilbur didn't mean to make him feel guilty- he had just wanted an _explanation_. (Alivebur wanted revenge. Ghostbur wanted to forget. Wilbur just wanted reconciliation.)

"Hey," Wilbur bumped his shoulder with Techno's smiling at his younger twin. Techno looked down at him, glassy, ruby eyes reflecting in the dull orange glow of the firelight.

"It's not your fault." The hybrid looked away, ears flattening against his skull. He could see his jaw clench and a single tear roll down his scarred cheek.

"But if I wasn't so fucking _awful_ -"

"Don't even start with me, Tech. You did the best that you could, and I _know_ how much you suffer on the daily because of those Notch damned voices. It's okay." Techno just turned back to him to bury his face in his shoulder, tusks gently scraping his skin as his shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

"I didn't get to watch him grow up, Wilbs," he whined as Wilbur began to card nimble fingers through his pink locks with his free hand.

"He's still got plenty of growing to do." The piglin nodded, remaining silent as he continued to soak Wil's yellow sweater with quiet tears.

"I'm sorry I'm the favorite. I didn't mean to take him away," Techno whispered after he had calmed some- tears slowed and breaths no longer stuttering in his chest.

"That's not your fault, Techno. Don't apologize. And even if you weren't the favorite, I would've been, and then, odds are, you would've even the one taking care of Toms." Wilbur snorted at the mental image of his kid brothers trying to get along. "No offense, but you're not exactly father material, Tech." Techno chuckled, but it was hollow and somber.

"Yeah. You shouldn't have had to be father material either, though. Not until Fundy."

"I know, but it's okay. Well, not okay, but you know what I mean. It had to be _somebody_ , and I'm glad it was me. He- he's part of my everything, you know? He and Fundy were all I thought about in Pogtopia- even after I went fucking bonkers." Techno reached forward to grab the sleeve of his sweater, something he used to do to ground himself when they were younger.

"Let's get some sleep, yeah? We did promise this gremlin," he nodded his head to the sleeping teen in his lap, "a snowball fight." His twin chuckled, the sound still watery, but it had a spark of life in it- of joy.

He turned, tugging Techno down with him so that they were lying side by side on the rickety bed, Tommy curled up on top of him like he was a little kid again. It brought a smile to his face as he listened to Techno's breathing even out as he drifted off to sleep. 

They weren't whole, but the fragments were coming together.

-

"Watch out, Toms!" Wilbur called, laughing as Tommy turned around far too slow, ending up being whacked in the face by a snowball. Techno grinned from behind his cover at Tommy's petulant glare and puffed, flushed cheeks. Wilbur chucked one at the back of Techno's head, as his twin was becoming far too cocky when faced with Tommy's lack of skill. He immediately turned intangible to avoid the two lumps of snow sent his way.

"That's no fair, Wilby!" Tommy whined as he kneeled in the snow to restock his supply. Techno just huffed his annoyance, his bottom jaw set forward in a mock pout- or as close to a pout as _Technoblade_ could get.

"You know, Tommy," Techno drawled, turning to face the blonde once more, continuing once he met his gaze. "There's no way he could beat us if we teamed up on him." Tommy took a few moments to process what had been said to him before a blinding grin overtook his face, eyes shining with childlike mischief. Wilbur paled, knowing that not only would he have to play along to make Tommy happy, he was going to get his spectral ass _beat_.

"Now, gentlemen," he pleaded, voice shakey as he backed up, hands held by his head in surrender. "Don't you think this is a little unnecessary?"

"Blood for the Blood God," his twin spat, glee written in his features. Tommy whooped, throwing a fist in the air as he cheered.

"Bood for the Blood God, bitch!" He was whacked in the face with a snowball before he even had the chance to run. With aim that accurate, it could have only come from Technoblade. His point was proven as another clump of snow sailed by his arm, more than a block away from him.

"Nice shot, nerd."

"Shut the fuck up!"

He took the time while Tommy was distracted, his back turned to him while he bickered with Techno, to sneak up on him and grab him by the waist, lifting him up in the air. Tommy shrieked, automatically grabbing on to Wilbur's arms as his legs flailed. Technoblade doubled over laughing as Wil set the blonde back down, the kid immediately falling over from the disorientation. Tommy blinked owlishly up at him while he procced the events that had just occurred, before his face contorted in rage.

"Wilbur!" He screamed, Wilbur cackled as he was tackled to the ground, wrapping his arms around the teen before he could even think about getting up. He huffed, but sank into the sudden hug nevertheless.

"I missed you," Wil heard Tommy whisper into his chest. He hummed, reaching to card a hand through freshly cleaned locks, pretending he didn't feel his sweater getting damp.

"I missed you too, Toms. I," he paused. "I love you, you know that?" Tommy nodded sniffling as he tried to stem his tears. A glance to the side saw Techno awkwardly shuffling inside, already having filled his emotional quote for the week.

"How about we go inside? I'll make us some hot cocoa."

"Like you used to?" Tommy looked up at him, chin resting and digging into Wil's chest.

"Yeah, how I used to make it." Tommy dragged him up, practically jumping with joy.

"Well, come on, then! What are you waiting for?" He exclaimed, trying to pull him over to the cabin. Wilbur laughed, a bright grin gracing his face, matching Tommy's blinding one.

They tumbled inside, the teen's giggles nearly echoing through the house as they made their way over to the kitchen. Techno was at the table, reading glasses perched on his nose and an old, dusty looking, leather bound book in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at them, ruby gaze questioning.

"Cocoa," was all he provided, but it was enough to get the hybrid to set his novel down and follow them.

Tommy was quick to perch himself on a counter, and all he could see as the blonde boy kicked his legs aimlessly was a much younger version of him. All doe eyed and flushed cheeks, lips in the permanent pout that all kids' are set in. His pudge little hands waving wildly as he babbled on about this or that, a habit he knew Tommy still had to this day. He could see the missing teeth in his big smile and the multicolored bandaids he was always covered in because he was so accident prone. Wilbur shook his head with a small smile, already moving over to where he knew Techno kept his harvests, pulling out some cocoa beans.

"Techno, cold you get me some mugs?" He called over his shoulder, already grabbing an old mortar and pestle.

"I'll get the milk!" Tommy exclaimed, hopping off of his perch, and then there was a pause. "Where do you keep the milk, Techie?" He heard his twin snort, and Wilbur himself couldn't keep a few breathy chuckles from slipping past his lips.

"Third cabinet to your left. The one with the latch." It wasn't long before a jug of milk was sat next to him, the metal clanking loudly against the granite countertop. The mugs were set down much more gently.

"Thanks," he said, trying to evenly distribute the cocoa powder between the three mugs.

"It's, uh, sugar and honey, right?" Techno muttered from across the kitchen.

"Yes, Tech." He chuckled as the piglin startled, not having expected to have been heard, nearly hitting his head on the top of the cabinet he was halfway in, digging around for the sweeteners. He knows it's always a shock to others that he and Techno are twins, considering the only piglin genes he inherited from their mother were under the surface- enhanced hearing, better eyesight, and, when he was alive, an elevated body temperature. Technoblade, on the other hand, had the ears, tusks, build, and eyes of the piglin species, along with the internal traits. Tech had always said that he got lucky, but he would've killed to be as cool as his younger twin. It had always been comical to him, though, how often the hybrid would forget that he wasn't completely human.

He poured the milk in, and then the honey and sugar when he was handed them, along with a drop of vanilla. He stirred the mixture until the once white liquid was dark and frothy before moving to heat the mugs on the furnace. He felt Tommy press into his side, burrowing himself under his arm. Wilbur pressed him close, gently rubbing his thumb over Tommy's shoulder, where his hand rested. Techno hovered behind them, and he could hear the way he fidgeted by the way his jewelry clanked.

"Get your ass over here, Tech," he huffed, holding his other arm out. Quietly, Techno tucked himself into his other side, pressing his face into Wilbur's neck as they waited for their drinks to warm.

"I miss Fundy," Tommy murmured, and Wilbur could feel his mouth move from where his face was pressed into his sweater. "We always- we always sat by the fire and-" he choked up, going quiet.

"I know, Toms. I'm sorry. I'll fix it one day, though. I promise." He kept his voice soft, knowing that if he spoke any louder, the words would get caught in his throat and burn at his eyes.

It wasn't much longer until the cocoa began to bubble, and Wil retrieved the, moving over to the dining table so that they could all sit. He handed the mugs over once he was sure they had cooled enough, knowing that if he handed them over earlier, Tommy would burn his tongue- impatient brat. He shook his head, smiling fondly as Tommy looked over at him with a line of foam stuck above his lip. 

This- this was home. It wasn't perfect, but it was _right_.

-

They had long since retired to the couch, content with cuddling by the fire and talking amongst themselves. It hadn't taken very long for Tommy to go quiet and his words to slur as he leaned almost entirely on Wilbur.

"You can go to sleep, Toms," he chuckled, bringing his hand up to mess with Tommy's hair.

"I'm a big man, Wilby. Don't need naps," he yawned, eyes slipping shut before he shook himself awake again, although his eyelids were already drooping.

"I'll wake you before dinner." He smiled as Tommy nodded sluggishly, collapsing against him as he finally drifted off. It had been a long day- he didn't blame the teen. Especially since he didn't necessarily have a full night's rest, either.

"Thank you," he heard Techno murmur once they were sure Tommy was asleep.

"What for, Tech?"

"For letting me make it up to you- to the both of you." Wilbur sighed, bumping his shoulder with Techno's.

"You're my brother, Tech. I love you, you know?" The piglin just looked at him with glassy eyes and a minute nod of the head.

"Why can't we say the same for dad?" Techno's gravelly voice rang in the silence. It was haunting, really, to know that the man they once held as their savior, the man they loved above all else. was the one to tear them apart- to lead them to where they were now.

"Where even is he?" The hybrid continued, brow furrowed as he tried to recall any related events from the night prior.

"To L'manburg, I reckon. He left before the sun rose with a sparsely packed bag, so he couldn't have been going anywhere new," Wil whispered.

"Bastard," Techno spat.

"I know. It's okay, though. Tommy has us, right?" Wilbur did his best to smile warmly at his twin.

"Yeah. He has us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to explain my thoughts on Phil leaving- 'cause this is told from Wilbur's perspective- I thought that, since Alivebur kinda blew up on him, he would've thought that giving them space would be the best course of action. spoiler alert: its the exact opposite of what he should do, but the man is NOT a good father RIP


	6. reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd be okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 of today's update! I debated splitting this one into two chapters, but I thought I'd keep it as one because it kind of leads into each other, based on their conversation in the first part.  
>  Also Tubbo apologists, I'M SORRY

It took three days of peace and quiet for things to change. Wilbur had been about to show Tommy how to harvest turtle scute, since the teen had been very excited at the prospect of working with the reptiles, when a figure appeared on the horizon. They were too far for even Wilbur's enhanced vision to make out their identity, so he shoved Tommy behind him, even if he wasn't the greatest line of defense. To his relief it was only Fundy, the fox shifter wringing his hands together as he approached. 

"Fundy!" Tommy shouted from behind him, running towards the man before Wilbur could grab him. Fundy wasn't too far from them, thankfully, so he could still hear everything that was happening.

Tommy has thrown himself at his brother, wrapping himself around Fundy like he was a koala, fave buried in his neck. Fundy had hooked his snout over Tommy's shoulder, eyes closed as he relished in the contact from the blonde kid he had always adored growing up.

"Thank you for trying to stand up for me," he heard Tommy mumble as he approached. Fundy only squeezed tighter, claws digging into the new, warm set of winter clothes Tommy had been given.

"Hello, Funds," Wilbur whispered, unsure if he was wanted. Alivebur had been horrible in the months leading up to his death, after all. Insane son of a bitch.

"Hey, dad," Fundy murmured back, a gentle smile showing off his canines. He supposed it would be menacing to anyone who didn't know him, but to Wilbur, it was the sweetest thing in the world.

Tommy detached himself from the fox, a bright grin on his face.

"Why don't you go get Techno to show you how to harvest the scutes instead?" He hummed, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder. The kid smiled up at him, nodding, a knowing look in his blue gaze. He scampered off, stumbling over himself as he still had yet to grow used to traversing the snow.

"Can we talk, dad?" Fundy was back to wringing his hands, tail flicking back and forth as his ears retreated back towards his skull.

"Of course." He hoped his smile was reassuring.

"There's a real pretty lake nearby if you wanna sit?" he asked, voice going lighter as he let Ghostbur closer to the surface. The shifter nodded, following him as he led them just past the treeline of the spruce forest.

"Woah," Fundy breathed, mahogany eyes going wide with wonder as he stared out at the glittering, frozen lake. Snow was piled on the sides, spruce trees caging it in, making it feel like its own, isolated paradise. Faintly, you could see salmon under the thick sheet of ice that covered the lake.

"It's one of my favorite places," Wilbur hesitantly spoke up. "It reminded me of the pond I'd always take you and Toms to during the winter months to go ice skating."

"You remember that?" Fundy's voice was watery. He didn't like that. He just wanted his boy to be _happy_.

"Of course I do, Funds. You always had the biggest smile on your face, even when you fell and scraped your knees or your palms. You were always there to help guide Tommy, as well. Notch, the boy was hopeless on his feet." He sat down at the edge of the ice, gesturing for Fundy to sit down as well. He wasn't expecting for the fox to latch onto his side, though, the now half-human shifter burying his face in Wil's neck.

"I missed you, dad," Fundy sniffled, the hands that gripped his sweater trembling.

"I've thought about you every day, my little champion." He let himself go silent as Fundy shook and sobbed against him, rubbing hopefully soothing circles onto his heaving back.

"You know, I'm so proud of you. I know I was horrible when I was alive, and there will never be enough apologies in the world to make up for letting myself fall to Dream's whims, but I've thought of you every day. I don't care if you scorn my name and spit on my grave, Ill always love you with all of my heart."

"Shut up, you stupid fucking poet," Fundy chuckled wetly into the crook of his neck.

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a poet then, would I?" The shifter pulled away, wiping at damp eyes with the sleeves of his long, black coat. He remembered when he had given it to the kid- he must've been fifteen at the time (maybe older. Once shifters reached the double digits they only matured even faster. He swore he had whiplash from watching his son grow up.) Fundy had gotten so excited he kept morphing between his anthro and human forms, causing Tommy to lose himself in a fit of giggles. He's surprised the fox had kept it after all this time, after all Wilbur had done, but it warms his heart nonetheless.

"I missed this. Just- just being able to _talk_."

"I know what you mean, Funds." The smile faded from his face. He knew he had been the root cause of nearly everything that Fundy and Tommy had suffered through.

"I really am sorry, you know? I shouldn't- I've been dragging you and Toms into wars since you were children. It was wrong of me and I know nothing I can do will ever make up for it- make up for being such a shit fucking father."

"Don't say that, dad. I know you just wanted a home for us- a place where we could be _safe_. And yes, it backfired, but who's to say that never fighting at all would've been better? Maybe we'd all be dead under Dream's tyranny." The gravity of what his son has just said was far heavier than the casual shrug of his leather clad shoulders would lead you to believe. He never- oh _No_ _tch_ , the thought of _either_ of his sons dying sent chills through his body and caused his heart to leap into his throat. He couldn't- fuck- he _would never_ let that happen. Wilbur just nodded, knowing he'd never be able to convince the shifter- it had been almost all he's ever known, after all.

"So," he cleared his throat. "How's- uh- how's L'manburg doing?" He asked, awkwardly fiddling with the edges of his red beanie. It appeared to be a bad topic of conversation, though, his son's shoulders slumping, looking overall defeated.

"Funds?" He questioned, voice soft as he laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"L'manburg scares me, dad. T- _Tubbo_ scares me." Fundy swiped a hand under his nose, taking a moment to compose himself and dry his eyes.

"Under _Schlatt_ ," he spat the man's name out with venom, " it wasn't all hopeless. We all had things to fight for- futures to look forward to. But- but Tubbo's just like _him_ , and somehow, it's _worse._ Under Schlatt's control, we all had each other- especially Quackity. Tubbo had-" Fundy paused to chuckled, the sound wet and hollow. "Tubbo had jokingly called him 'Mama Q,' one day after he was helping to patch us up after a particularly nasty tantrum of Schlatt's, and it just stuck. But now," his brow furrowed, the brief look of happiness that had crossed his face gone, leaving the young man looking gaunt and worn with decades worth of exhaustion.

"Quackity isn't the same. I think he scares me more than Tubbo does- more than Schlatt did. He- he has a _hit list_ , and the only ones still alive on it are Techno and Dream. But I- I don't want _either_ of them dead. But he- he has this idea of a _butcher army_. They've got propaganda everywhere and the people are _excited_ for it. They're all so bloodthirsty and I'm _scared_." He pulled Fundy into his side, hoping to offer some small comfort as his son poured his feelings out.

"I know everyone's all pissed at Techno for the whole Wither thing, but I _get it_ now. After that shit Tubbo pulled when he exiled Tommy, completely going back on his promises, I get it. And I _get_ why governments are bad, now. We never should've tried to make one." Fundy took a couple of deep breaths, his claws gripped harshly onto Wilbur's sweater, something the shifter had done since he was a kid- it had always grounded him, reassured him that Wil wasn't going anywhere, that he was safe. He always thought that it was sweet- that Fundy used the same Technique as his twin did.

"But Dream- I- I know he doesn't love me. I _know_ he only accepted my proposal because of all the _political benefits,_ or whatever the fuck it offered, but-" his breath caught on a sob. "I love him, Dad. And I _hate_ that I do. I hate him for everything he's done- for all that he continues to do- but I can't _stop_."

"That's okay, Funds. I get it." He paused to collect himself- to keep himself _balanced_. "When I met your mother, I thought she was the most beautiful being in existence. I was young and dumb, and I paid no mind to the tales of such slippery shifters- the ones who played mind games to continue their species. She was enchanting, truly, and I loved her with all I had- which wasn't much, to be frank. I really do mean that I was young and most _definitely_ dumb. But, even now, when I scorn her name and the mere thought of her caves my ribcage, I love her. I love her smile and the way she laughed. I love the way she would braid my hair in the summer as I strummed the guitar. I love the way she would sway and dance and hum along as if the river itself flowed through her. I love the way she whispered her praises, her meaningless confessions. But you know what I love most, Funds?" Fundy looked up at him, glassy eyes questioning as he shook his head.

"I love that she gave me you." Fundy sucked in a breath. "I love her because I love _you_. My darling little boy, my sweet, perfect champion. You'll always be my son and I'll always love you, no matter who you choose to love. And if they break your heart? Well, I'm not a father for nothing." He chuckled. "I'll hunt them down and make them wish they were never born, because you, my dear boy, deserve the world." Fundy sniffled, a new wave of tears pouring from his already red-rimmed eyes.

"Death really has turned you into a sap, huh?"

"Fundy I swear to fucking Notch I will throw you across this ice." Fundy laughed- truly laughed- at that, doubling over, wheezing with each harsh exhale. It brought a smile to his face, knowing that under the layers of trauma, his son was still there- that Fundy could still be _happy_. The atmosphere didn't last long, however, Fundy sombering when he looked to the sky.

"I've gotta start heading back," he sighed, leaning his head on Wilbur's shoulder. "It was my day off, so I had the chance to visit, but they'll, well, I don't know what they'll do if I'm not in my house by sundown, but I'd rather not find out what happens when you break curfew."

"Oh, Funds," he breathed into his son's ginger locks. "You can come here whenever you wish- whenever you need to. Don't worry about intruding, okay? You'll always be welcome here, and even if that means I have to beat Technoblade over the head with a stick," Fundy giggled at that, "you are."

"I love you, dad," the shifter whispered as he wrapped his arms around him one last time.

"I love you too, Funds. Never forget that." He pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, holding his son close before he inevitably had to let him go.

"Try and come back soon, yeah? Tommy really missed you." He felt Fundy nod into his shoulder before they said their teary, heartfelt goodbyes- and then his son was gone, off back to L'manburg.

He kicked a stray stone over the ice, watching with abject apathy as it skittered across the frozen surface, bouncing and clinking each time it made contact. He fucking _hated_ L'manburg. He _loathed_ it. He waned it wiped off the face of the server. It _hurt_ everyone he cared about and he couldn't let that stand any longer. He _wouldn't_.

-

It had been a week since Fundy had visited, and he had yet to hear so much as a word from him. Perhaps he was busy, he had reasoned running a country, no matter how corrupt, wasn't easy. He convinced himself of that until he was on his way to chop down some trees because they were running low on firewood, when who does he see but _Tubbo and Quackity_. He turned invisible before they could spot him, the diamond axe in his hand fizzing out of existence as it slotted itself in his inventory. The two were dressed in bloody, white aprons, and each had neterite axes in their grip that glowed with enchantments. He spotted Fundy trailing behind them, the shifter dressed in similar gear, though he spotted no weapon in his grasp. His head was bowed and ears pressed flat, his tail flicking behind him nervously. A glint of sunlight caught his eye and his heart stuttered in his chest. (Figuratively, of course, because, well, you get the point. Six feet under and all that.) they had put a _shock collar_ around his boy. The metal dug into his neck- he could see it in the way it pressed itself into and under his fur- and the boc that held the electrical components sat just under his jawline.

He turned himself visible the moment they had crossed the treeling and into the open plains, arms crossed and gaze deadly.

"Move aside, Wilbur," Tubbo commanded, voice steady with confidence that the kid had never had before, his usually bright eyes dark with power and bloodlust. There really was no hope for the son of a bitch, was there?

"You're tresspassing on private property." He didn't budge a fucking inch, but he could manage this encounter peacefully for as long as they stayed tame.

"We're here to detain and escort Technoblade back to L'manburg, so that he may pay for his crimes," Quackity spoke up, his aptitude for politics shining through in the way his voice was light and friendly, as if he could do no wrong. Wilbut wanted to rip those stupid, stunted wings off of his back.

Before any of them could make another move, Wilbur heard a shout from behind him. It was distant, so he whipped around, only to see Tommy scrambling across the snow, a weary looking Technoblade halfway out of the door in a failed attempt to catch the teen. Tommy skidded to a stop in front of Tubbo, a hopeful smile resting on his face.

"Tubbo! What are you doing here?" Tommy was _so_ excited to see the boy he thought of as his best friend, and it tore Wilbur apart. It clawed at his throat and echoed in his mind. It tore his heart in two and twisted his gut into knots. Tubbo had _no right_ to betray his boy like that- like _this_.

"We're here to execute Technoblade," Tubbo spat, the only indication of emotion being his tone, as his face remained blank and impassive, his shoulders still related and back straight. He truly was the epitome of a stone cold bastard. Tommy flinched at the words, hie brow furrowing.

"But I just got him back, Tubbs. Why would you take him away?" Fuck, Tommy sounded so _lost_. His voice echoed with the hollow, icy halls of the Antarctic Empire. He could see it in his eyes, as if the lanterm light that guided their way when they were all alone still shone there.

"Oh please, Tommy. Quit being so dramatic. You had an entire childhood together." Tubbo rolled his eyes, gripping his axe tighter. **_How dare-_**

"No I didn't- you know- I," Tommy paused, gaze growing hazy and glassy as he hunched over, wrapping his arms around himself, taking slow yet panicked steps backward.

"So alone- everyone leaves. I want- where'd they go?" He muttered to himself, only stopping his steps when his foot got caught on the snow and he fell to his knees. Wilbur made to rush over to him- to bring him out of this _flashback_ \- but Fundy beat him to it, bounding over on all fours before he changed back to his typical half human state Fundy gently cupped his flushed face, and Wilbur nearly broke at the lost look in his baby blue eyes. Even with Fundy right there in front of him, he was still stuck in the past.

"Hey Toms! It's big bro Fundy!" He could hear the fake enthusiasm in his voice by the way it strained and cracked at the end, his smiled forced and wavering. His words seemed to have worked a bit, though, as the haze lessened and Tommy blinked slowly.

"Fun-Fun?" Tommy breathed, barely audible even in the silence of the plains.

"Yeah Toms! It's me, your favorite big brother!" Tommy giggled faintly, leaning ever so slightly into Fundy's hands that still cupped his cheeks.

"Where's dad?" Wilbur's entire heart shattered into pieces. He'd heard the stories from Fundy countless times, of Tommy calling his dad, but he never wanted to believe it. Never wanted to think about it because then he'd have to think about the reasons _why_. He remembers that Fundy said he has asked bout it, once- why Tommy only called Wilbur dad when he was alone or with Fundy- and it tore him apart, seeing the physical evidence in front of him, now.

_"Did he tell you anything, Funds?"_

_"Yeah he," a hesitation. "He said it's because he doesn't wanna freak you out or something. That he doesn't wanna lose you too."_

"He's out patrolling and keeping us safe, remember?" Fundy played along with the delusion, knowing just as well as Wilbur did- from having dealt withthis situation more times than he'd care to admit- that Tommy was still stuck in the past.

"Said he's gotta keep us safe from Dream and ty- tyra- trya-"

"Tyranny?" Fundy finished, a genuine smile on his face.

"Yeah!" Tommy giggled, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Fundy's neck. He had always loved to be carried when he was a kid- up until he turned thirteen, really- and after a flashback, Notch help you because there was no escaping a clingy Tommy. Fundy just sighed fondly as he wrapped his arms around the teen and lifted him up when he stood, Tommy's legs automatically wrapping around his waist- Fundy had carried Tommy more than once, after all.

Wilbur, spotting Quackity's free hand moving towards his pocket, lunged forward and crushed the electrical box of Fundy's shock collar, effectively neutralizing it. Fundy just tossed him a grateful look before he started to walk back to the cabin with Tommy.

"Y'know, Toms, I was thinkin' about making some waffles. D'you want some waffles?"

"Chocky chip?"

"Anything else would be a disgrace." Tommy's giggles faded off as the pair moved farther and farther away.

"What the fuck was that?" Quakity spat, as subtle as ever.

"A flashback," Wilbur bit, whipping his trust axe out of his inventory, gripping it so tight his ashen knuckles turned a milky white. Quackity snorted at the display, continuing to be loud and arrogant, while Tubbo tensed, expression rightfully wary. Tubbo had been there for the original revolution, after all. But, now that there was no one in he immediate vicinity that he had to protect, he could go all out.

"Now, if you're done terrorizing my children and threatening my brother, you should get going before things get _messy_ ," Wilbut taunted, eyes alight with fury as Ghostbur stepped to the side voluntarily, letting Alivebur fully take the reigns.

"Aw, is the little ghostie acting tough-"

"Quackity _stop_ -"

"Oh please, there's a _reason_ you prefer words over violence-"

"Quackity you don't know what you're talking about-"

"It's because you're all bark and no bite, you fucking _poet_." Wilbur just laughed, twirling the diamond tool in his hand with practiced ease, grin tugging at his cheeks and crinkling his eyes.

"I know I may look human, Quackity, but let me be a reminder for you." He leveled the blade with the duck hybrid's head, his expression still far too cocky for his liking. "I'm not Technoblade's _twin_ for nothing." Wilbur _relished_ in the potent fear that crossed the man's face. The color of it drained rapidly, leaving him pale and gaunt, and his eyes spoke _volumes_. 

The moment was ruined, however, by Tubbo tugging Quackity away, trying to run off towards L'manburg like a couple of scared dogs with their tails between their legs. He swung his axe down, managing to catch the center of Quackity's back. It wasn't deep, and it definitely wouldn't kill him, but it would scar. It would serve as a _permanent_ reminder that you don't fuck with Wilbur's family.

"Send Philza my regards!" He cackled, staring at their stumbling, retreating backs. Wilbur wasn't stupid. He could see that glowing compass stuffed in Tubbo's pocket. He knew. Wilbur _always_ knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, with Tommy's flashback, there's a little bit of age regression- I couldn't help myself, I've got a whole damn series on it, after all. It's not enough to tag it, but I thought, given the context of why he had a flashback, that it would make sense to include it.
> 
> also it is implied that the reason Fundy knew where to find Wil was because Phil gave him the coords. and the whole tubbo having the Techno's compass thing happened pretty much like in canon, with Phil now on house arrest- Wilbur just doesn't know this, considering his bad track record with Phil so far.


	7. Surprise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast did not proceed as planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long to publish. I have been in a ~depressive state~ for a while now and I just haven't had a lot of motivation tbh  
> Also canon????? I don't know her

"They had your compass."

"What?" Techno bit, head whipping in his direction, ruby eyes wide in disbelief- or, perhaps it was offense. Wilbur could never be quite sure when it came to his twin.

Techno was cleaning up the remains of dinner- a lovely meal of mushroom stew with a side of freshly baked sweet bread. It was late and Tommy and Fundy had already retired for the night, curled around one another by the fire, like they did when they were younger. It was a heartwarming sight, really, but it did nothing to make the conversation he had just sparked any easier.

"When they were running. Tubbo had it in his pocket. It would've been the only way they found this place to begin with, too," he sighed, Ghostbur already beginning his incessant chant of 'blue.' (Can't he see that he doesn't _want_ to forget? Forgetting is what got him into this mess in the first place.)

"Do you think...?" Techno trailed off, hands stilling where they had been scrubbing a wooden bowl in the sink. Without the faint sound of water splashing and the rubbing of a sponge against the dishes, the house was eerily silent, the quiet only filled by the occasional loud gust of wind and the hardly audible crackle of the hearth.

"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past him." techno hummed, brow furrowing as he gazed out of the frosted window, watching the gentle flurry of snow drift by as he thought.

"I don't," he paused. "I don't think he would've- not if he knew their intentions at least," Techno huffed. "I don't think that collar was a very recent addition, either," he added, as if the thought had just come to him.

"What do you think happened, then, Mr. Detective?" Wilbur teased, still serious despite his mocking tone.

"I don't know, Wil. He's one of the best fighters Minecraft has ever seen. His title certainly wasn't a gift. Nether, he could probably take out half of L'manburg in his sleep."

"So he gave over the information willingly, or he was coerced, wither by Fundy's situation or something else." They sat in the quiet for a while, Techno resuming his dishwashing while Wilbur mulled everything over.

"D'you think we could talk about this in the morning, Wil? I..." Techno trailed off as he put the last dish away in a cabinet.

"Of course, Tech," Wil smiled. Techno had had a long day, after all. It's not every day you have an execution squad coming for your head after an already emotionally charged month, and then, after that, have to deal with a traumatized teenager and a nephew he's met like twice previously.

Wilbur moved forward and wrapped his arms around Techno, pulling his head down so it rested on his shoulder, gently scraping his blunt fingernails against his scalp. The piglin slumped forward, resting nearly his full weight on him, but he didn't mind. Techno practically purred at the positive contact, shutting his eyes as he loosely returned the hug.

"L've you, Wil," his deep baritone rumbled, and Wil turned to press a soft kiss to his temple.

"I love you too, Techno. Let's get to bed, alright?" The piglin huffed, moving to disentangle himself from the embrace, but Wil just grabbed his arm and dragged him up to his upstairs bedroom. Techno blinked owlishly at him as he shoved him down on the bed and tucked him in.

"We'll talk in the morning, m'kay?" The hybrid nodded, eyes slipping shut as the exhaustion of the day weighed down on him.

-

It was midmorning when Tommy and Fundy finally awoke, the two stumbling into the kitchen where Wilbur was making breakfast. Fundy went to lean on a counter, content to watch, but Tommy ambled over, pressing his face into Wilbur's side where he had been standing at the stove, making pancakes.

"Good morning, you two," Wil smiled, bringing an arm up to wrap around Tommy's shoulders. Fundy gave an amiable nod, while Tommy just groaned, pressing himself closer, as if Wilbur's flank would let him go back to bed.

"Someone's sleepy," he chuckled. Tommy whined, reaching to clutch Wilbur's sweater in his pale hands.

"Not. 'M a bit man. Tough," the blonde slurred, leaning so heavily, Wilbur wasn't sure if the teen was even holding himself up anymore. Fundy barked out a laugh and Tommy grumbled further.

Wil flipped the pancakes he had laid out on the pan, doing his best to not accidentally elbow the teen attached to him like a parasite.

"Fundy, do you mind getting a few eggs out of the icebox?" He received no answer, but the cabinets creaked and he was handed a basket of fresh eggs.

"Thanks, hun," he hummed absent mindedly, lighting another burner. He cracked a couple of eggs on a new pan, whisking them with a fork, scrambling the yolks and mixing them with the whites. He let them warm up for a bit, focusing on transferring the pancakes he had been making onto a separate plate to cool. He poured some more batter onto the pan, the sizzle as it met the hot metal quiet but satisfying. He stirred the eggs with a spatula, then, making sure they didn't burn as they cooked.

"Tommy?" the teen hummed in response, face still shoved into his sweater. "Do you think you could go get Techno? He should be at his bee farm, now." He groaned, but detached himself from his side, trudging to the door, arms high above his head as he stretched.

"Will he ever get used to waking up?" Fundy chuckled, turning the burner off for the eggs and scraping portions to all of the plates Wil had set out previously.

"Unlikely. He's been that way since he got used to not being out in the hub." He shook his head fondly, remembering the first time Tommy had clung to him in the morning, groggy and definitely not ready to wake up, despite the fact that it had been nearing noon. Tommy had still been small enough to fit in his arms then, and he had never had the heart to push Tommy away, even now, twelve years later.

"You never did tell me how you found Tommy." Fundy was quiet, voice not quite a whisper but almost there. It wasn't accusing or harsh, just a statement born out of curiosity for his family. Wilbur smiled, a wistful, bittersweet thing, as he stacked the pancakes on the laid out plates.

"We- Tech, Phil, and I- had gone out to Hypixel for a while because there was a bedwars tournament that Tech really wanted to attend. On the way back, we found the little bastard by the portal back to SMP Earth." He could see the kid now, all skin and bones. Matted hair and dirt caked attire. His eyes were brighter than even Phil's, though, and he had an air about him, as if he were the most important thing in the world. Wilbur had had no idea that soon, Tommy would be.

"He was so malnourished, Funds. Even I wasn't sure he was gonna make it after we brought him back. But he did. He was so strong." Really, he was. Tommy could hardly eat anything when they first brought him back to the Empire. Less than a quarter of a bowl of broth and the kid would throw it back up, stomach overwhelmed with the sudden influx. He was weak- physically- as well. Wilbur had to carry him everywhere. He was always bundled up, swathed in furs and coats at all times, frail body unable to combat the cold.

"He was supposed to be my little brother, just another one of the kids that Phil found, you know? But I- I was the one taking care of him. All the time." He wouldn't pretend that he wasn't still bitter about it. Phil was supposed to be the kid's _father_ dammit, but Techno was the favorite, and so he took precedent over everything else.

"Then they left. It wasn't Techno's fault. He had to run- to keep us safe. But Phil..." he trailed off, unwilling to broach the subject, lest he have another breakdown. It was for the best, though, as he heard the slam of the front door opening, and heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen.

Techno ambled through the doorway, handing him a bottle of fresh, warm honey, that Wil then drizzled over the pancakes with a nod of thanks. Tommy padded in behind him quietly, more awake than he had been, but not enough for his usual, rambunctious, over-the-top personality to shine through.

Tommy slumped over at the table, face down on the wood. Techno snorted, ruffling the teen's hair. Tommy only whined in protest, making no effort to move.

"You never change, do ya, Toms?"

"Shut the fuck up, Techno. I hate you." His words were muffled by the table, and Techno couldn't help the fond shake of his head or the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Fundy helped Wilbur carry breakfast over to the table, Techno retrieving silverware from the drawer next to the sink. It was much, much later than the usual mornings spent in the Empire, but somehow, it was still home. A different land many years later, the trauma of war and tragedy weighing heavily on them all, but home just the same.

That's why it was a real fucking shame when Philza and Ranboo came barreling through the front door.

"What the fuck," Tommy muttered, a honey covered pancake halfway in his mouth. Wilbur couldn't help but agree.

Techno and Fundy had already rushed over to the duo, taking the slumped form of Ranboo from Phil's arms, the avian finally dropping to his knees in exhaustion. Tommy was frozen in his seat, and Wilbur wasn't much better. The two were covered in blood, and he knew that it had come from Ranboo- the dual hybrid was nearly black with how much coated him, not to mention how many rips, tears, and holes were in his baggy, usually well kept suit.

( _Blue?_ Ghostbur whispered in the back of his mind, tone gentle but lined with a razor's edge.)

"Dad?" Tommy whimpered, approaching on unsteady feet. He could faintly hear Phil reply, but he couldn't be bothered to listen. Ranboo- another _kid_ \- was practically in _shambles_.

He couldn't look away.

His white arm was sliced along the length of it, from his shoulder to his wrist, thick, dark, purplish blood flowing from the wound. He could even see the way his flesh split apart in layers, from his waxy skin, through spongy fat, until the wound was just purple. He couldn't tell if his other arm fared any better, the dark coloring of his scales blending in with the blood that shone off of them.

His right leg was bent at an awkward angle, the lavender claws that should be on his foot were gone, one torn off completely and the others chipped and in pieces, to the point where not much remained. His left leg wasn't much better, with long gashes, and an arrow stuck in his thigh, piercing through the waxy white sheen of his skin as if it were butter.

His face seemed to be untouched for the most part, but there was a giant bruise forming over his nose and his left eye.

He wasn't sure if he was grateful or worried that the teen was unconscious.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to think of the parallels of the scar through his abdomen and the vivid purple pooling in Ranboo's.

He didn't want the think about the blood that coated Phil's hands. ( ~~ _Red and Blue make Purple._~~ )

He didn't want to think about the blood trail from the door to the living room- the blood trail from another _kid_.

"Wilby?" He heard Tommy whimper from behind him, a hand clutching the back of his coat. It snapped him from his spiral, and he turned to face the blonde with a hesitant smile.

Some of the blood from Phil had transferred to Tommy where the teen had kneeled beside the man, the avian passed out and leaning on him. It made his heart ache, imagining that the blood had _come_ from Tommy- even if most of it wasn't the right color.

He crouched in front of the pair, racing out to card a shaky hand through Tommy's soft locks.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, not quite believing the words himself. Tommy nodded, forcefully, as if he were trying to convince Wilbur of it too.

"Techie and Funds will save him?"

"Of course." He ignored the way his voice shook and echoed with Ghostbur's familiar lilt. He ignored the muffled scream from the living room and the frantic scrambling he could hear. He ignored the way Phil breathed shallowly, his wings twitching around the arrows that pierced them. He ignored everything except Tommy, keeping the boy's face cupped in his hands, wiping away the tears that fell from his baby blue eyes.

"We'll all be okay. I promise."

-

It was well into the early hours of the next morning by the time Ranboo was completely stabilized and Phil was patched up. It was tedious, encompassing work, and he could tell Fundy and Technoblade were exhausted. Tommy had fallen into a fitful rest just after midnight, unable to keep his eyes open any longer despite his valiant efforts. Techno had stormed off to Notch knows where afterward, the door slamming shut behind him, coat rack swinging unsteadily from where the piglin had torn his cloak off of it.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay, Funds?" He whispered to his trembling son, the shifter's eyes still locked onto the unconscious dual hybrid.

"But-" Fundy whimpered, the sound pitiful, and it broke his heart to hear.

"He'll be okay, I promise." He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's time to take care of yourself, now." He was still hesitant, but eventually, Fundy nodded, finally turning to look at him.

His tanned face was covered in splotches of dried, purple blood, and there were tear stains carved into the grime as well. The corners of his mahogany eyes were red, and his ginger locks were matted with blood, sweat, and from Fundy constantly running his hands through them.

He cupped the shifter's face in his icy hands, wiping what he could off with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to his son's forehead. Fundy leaned into him- more akin to collapsing, really- and whined lowly.

"You did such an amazing job tonight, Funds. I'm so proud of you." Fundy just shook in his hold. He could feel the collar of his sweater getting wet, the fox finally letting his pent up emotions out. He swayed them back and forth, gently untangling the knots in his hair as he hummed a lullaby from his childhood.

"I missed you, dad," Fundy murmured, his voice small and weak. Wilbur just squeezed him tighter, conveying- he hoped- all that he wanted to say but couldn't put into words.

"Let's go run you a bath, yeah?" The fox nodded, making no move to detach himself from the embrace but Wilbur didn't mind. He'd raised his sons alongside each other, and there wasn't anything more difficult than trying to maneuver with _two_ children clinging to you like you're a jungle gym. He shifted them so that Fundy was nestled into his side, his arm around the shifter's waist. It was like that, that they shuffled over to Techno's bathroom.

It wasn't very grand, all things considered, but it was well kept. (Although, he could see Tommy's little corner of the vanity and it made him cringe. The kid had products everywhere.) The floors were a simple, andesite tiling, with quartz tiling and walls. There was a nice, rather sizeable, wooden tub in the far corner, engraved with warming and conjuring- because you can't have a bath without water- enchantments.

He allowed Fundy the privacy to strip and submerge himself in the warm water, turning around to face the far wall, analyzing the towels the hung there for no other reason than that there was nothing else to look at.

"'M good," the fox called, although the words were still quiet and subdued.

He let Fundy begin to scrub the dried blood off with a washrag, the once clear water already murky, as he kneeled behind the tub, leaning his son's head back gently. With a nearby cup, he poured water over his hair, making sure none of it slipped into his shut eyes, and gently scratched at his scalp, trying to get the water to completely saturate the ginger locks.

Wilbur, after grabbing the nearby shampoo bottle, began lathering the lavender scented soap across Fundy's scalp. The shifter was practically purring, head nearly chasing his gentle movements. It warmed his heart to know that, even after everything they'd been through, Fundy still loved him- still trusted him. He loved his little boy- both of them- and no matter how grown up they might get, he always would. He'd always baby them, because they were the most precious things in his world.

He continued washing Fundy's hair for far longer than was necessary, but it soothed his aching heart, and he knew it brought comfort to the fox as well. Eventually, though, the water cooled, and he allowed Fundy the privacy to get dressed in peace. Meanwhile, he made his way to the kitchen to whip of a quick meal and perhaps a mug of cocoa, if Fundy was up for it.

He was halfway through cutting up some rabbit for a sandwich when Fundy ambled into the kitchen, fidgeting with the edges of the sweater Wilbur had lent him. (It was old and worn, from the time he had still been with Sally. He had found it in the market, the salmon color catching his eye. He had spent his gold on it because of how it reminded him of the love of his life, but now, all these years later, he can't help but think that it pairs wonderfully with his son's eyes."

"How do you feel, about some cocoa, Fundy, hmm? It may not pair well with a sandwich, but it is good for the nerves." He tried to keep his voice light and welcoming, knowing the fox needed all the positivity he could get after the Nether of a day they had had. Fundy chuckled, the sound more breathy than anything.

"Not tonight, dad." The shifter nuzzled his face into Wilbur's neck, clutching weakly at his coat. "Thanks, though," he tacked on, almost as if it were an afterthought.

"Of course," he smiled, passing the plate of food over to Fundy. It wasn't much- just some rabbit, tomatoes, cheese, and the bread that they had baked a few days ago- as it was nearing the end of the week and they had yet to truly gather more supplies, but he hoped it would suffice. Fundy hummed in appreciating, forgoing words for stuffing the meal in his mouth, having not had the chance to really eat breakfast, or anything else for that matter.

Wilbur let the shifter eat in silence, moving the few dishes he had used to the sink, making a mental note to wash them in the morning. It was comforting, this time, instead of the tense, overbearing weight it had been since Ranboo and Phi had come tumbling into the cottage.

"Do you think they'll be okay?" Fundy whispered, though, despite the way the words fluttered softly in the air, they were heavy- damning, even. The _'Do you think we'll be okay?'_ went unspoken.

"Of course, Funds. I'll make sure of it." And this time, he meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhh,, I wanted to explain a little bit of the world-building here, because things are mentioned in this chapter that I wanted to explain my thought process behind.
> 
> So like, in general, Minecraft is known as the universe they live in, with different worlds and servers, all connected by a place called the 'server hub.' Notch is considered the being from which all creation spawned, and Herobrine is the mythical embodiment of the Nether. Now, to prevent complete chaos, there is server management, from what is known as the 'Mojang Server'.  
>  Now, since Techno mentioned Phil's 'title' (aka, the surname of Minecraft), it means Phil was recognized for his talents by the Mojang Server, and was bestowed the title of 'Minecraft.' (others, never mentioned here, also have this or other titles.)
> 
> Literally none of this matters but this is just what I was thinking about when I was thinking about this


	8. waking hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Your hair's all long and shit."  
> "Fuck off, asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man, this was supposed to be the build-up to this big, dramatic scene, then I kept writing and now it feels too long to keep in one chapter. appreciate the fluff for now

Tommy had been practically attached at his hip since the teen had awoken, never straying far from his line of sight. When he did, it was to go to Fundy for a brief few moments before returning. Wilbur wasn't sure why, all things considered, but the boy was quiet, and a quiet clingy Tommy always meant that there was something rattling around in that brain of his.

If he had to take a guess, he'd assume that it had something to do with the fact that Philza and Ranboo were still passed out in their living room, and Techno had yet to come out of his room since he'd returned to the cabin just after the sun began to rise. Tommy was antsy, fiddling with his sleeves and even the back of Wilbur's coat when he spaced out completely.

"What's wrong, bubs?" He asked, having managed to get away from the west of the household by stowing away in the kitchen, He had cupped Tommy's jaw gently, the blonde teen leaning into it like a wounded animal.

"'M a big man, bitch. Nothin's wrong," Tommy whined, crowding closer to him.

"Of course, Toms," he smiled, bringing his boy into a tight hug. Tommy melted into it, clutching the back of his trenchcoat tightly, nuzzling his face into Wilbur's chest like somehow, the scent of gunpowder and lapis dust that always seemed to follow him would save the kid from his own thoughts and fears. He hummed, carding an ashen hand through blonde locks that were, at this point, past his ears. He either needed to give Tommy a haircut, or teach the kid to tie his hair up properly.

"Your hair's all long and shit," he chuckled, resting his cheek on top of Tommy's head.

"Fuck off, asshole."

"No, I don't think I will," Wilbur teased back, letting Tommy go when he pulled away to glare playfully at the ghost. Wil grinned, eyes squinting as he gazed fondly at the teen's pouty face.

"Do you want me to cut it? Or do you want to put it up?" Tommy looked taken aback for a moment. He'd never really deviated from the fluffy mess of curls that usually sat just above his eyes.

"Can you braid it?" He asked, suddenly the shy little kid he'd raised. His voice was meek and he wouldn't meet his eyes, but that was okay. Wilbur just ruffled his hair and gave him the biggest grin he could manage.

"Go sit at the table. I'll go hound Techno for a hair tie or two."

He made his way up the ladder that was the only access point to the loft that Techno had claimed as his. It creaked and groaned, as all ladders do, and really, he wasn't sure why he bothered. He was _dead_. He could just fly up, for Herobrine's sake. Old habits die hard, or whatever.

"Techno!" He called, rapping his knuckles on the tightly latched spruce door.

"What?" His twin sighed as he opened the door. Wilbur would've snorted if he had any less self control. His hair was a mess, strands of pink in every direction. HIs long, usually well kept hair was a mess of frizz down his back and over his shoulders, some even in front of his tired, red gaze.

"Well, I was gonna ask you for a hair tie so I could do Toms' hair, but now I think you need it more than he does," Wilbur stated bluntly.

"You're a grey spirit. You can't talk about how _I_ look."

"That doesn't mean I don't have _eyes,_ dumbass."

"Will you leave me alone if I say yes?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. You'll just have to see," he teased, shit eating grin pasted on his face. "I can, however, confirm that I will _not_ leave you alone if you say no."

"Okay, _asshole._ You can braid my stupid hair."

"That's what I like to hear!" He cackled, backing away from the piglin hybrid. "Bring a few ties and shit with you when you come down, yeah?" He phased through the floor, narrowly missing being hit with one of his brother's heavy boots.

"Well, Tomathy!" he beamed, dramatically throwing himself in the chair across from Tommy. He ignored Fundy's call of _'Shut the fuck up!'_ from the sitting room, where the shifter was watching over the still unconscious Ranboo and Philza.

"Bit of a change in plans, you see. Mr. Blade upstares has decided that self care is unimportant, so we're gonna do his hair for him. How does that sound?" Tommy just stared blankly at him for a moment.

"Why in the Creation Gods' name would I willingly mess with Techno's hair?" The blonde stayed deadpan, ocean gaze level with his faded red.

"Because it'll be funny?"

"I quite like being alive, thanks."

"You're no fun," Wilbur pouted, resting his head on his folded arms like a grumpy child.

"What's this about messing with my hair?" Growled Techno from over his shoulder, hot breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

"Mojang!" He shouted in surprise, phasing through the table on instinct and cowering behind Tommy. The piglin looked smug, arms crossed haughtily, a wicked smirk on his scarred face.

"That's what I thought." Wilbur huffed in annoyance, cheeks flushing a muted blue in embarrassment at being caught red-handed.

"You look like shit," Tommy interjected, a snort falling past his lips.

"At least I don't look like a drowned rat," Techno shot back, the two immediately falling into a familiar bickering match. (Would the pair ever change? _Unlikely._ )

"You take that back you pig headed mother fuc-!"

"Will you three shu the fuck up!?" fundy interrupted, slamming a clawed hand on the concrete wall with considerable force. Tommy was the first to apologize, a mumbled, sheepish _'sorry'_ rolling off of his tongue with practiced ease. Techno just nodded jerkily at the irate shifter, while Wilbur just pouted even more, floating upside down, arms crossed in front of his chest like a particularly moody toddler.

" _Dad._ "

"Alright! Alright!" He conceded, turning himself back upright. "It won't happen again, your majesty," he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, another idea forming in his head now that his plan to mess with his twin had been thwarted. "How would you like your hair done, Funds? It'll be like old times!" Fundy, however, did not look amused in the slightest.

"Get near me and I _will_ find a way to exorcise you _permanently_."

"Fiiiine!" He whined, dragging Tommy back to the table after Fundy disappeared back into the depths of the sitting room.

"You get your hair done first!" He grinned, shoving the teen back into a wooden chair. "Techno's a bit of a press, you see. Takes bloody _ages_." He cackled at the playful swat from his twin that passed right through him.

Wilbur got to work quickly, though. All of this was to try and cheer Tommy up, after all. He carefully ran his fingers through the somewhat tangled locks, picking them apart and slowly gathering the strands back into one large mass. There were some shorter strands up front that didn't make it far enough back, but he could deal with those later.

"Ya know," he began taking a hair tie from Techno's outstretched hand. "I was the one to teach Techno how to do his hair. He was a right mess, before. You should've seen him back in the Nether. If you thought this was bad," he nodded in the piglin's direction. "You would've had a fit if you saw him then."

"Yeah, yeah," Techno rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. Wilbur absently noted that he was still in his night clothes- a baggy white shirt and some sweat pants. It was strangely domestic.

"I see you're omitting the fact that your hair was so bad, Phil had to cut most of it off. At least mine was redeemable."

Wilbur spluttered indignantly, choosing to remain in a flushed silence as he finished off the last of Tommy's hair. It wasn't a perfect braid considering he didn't have that much to work with, but it would do. He grabbed a few bobby pins from the table next to him, pinning the shorter locks back, and then he was done.

"Alright, bubs. You're all set!"

Tommy reached back to gently run his fingers over the plaits, a soft grin gracing his face.

"Thanks, Wil," Tommy said after a moment, uncharacteristically quiet.

"'Course. Now, you want me to show you how I braid Tech's hair?" He smiled, resting a chilly hand on the teen's shoulder.

"Yeah!" Tommy cheered, although he made sure to keep his voice low enough to not upset Fundy.

Techno sighed good naturedly, shouldering Tommy to the side so he could slump down into the seat in front of Wil.

"Get on with it, already," he huffed. Tommy suppressed a giggle, hand covering his slightly reddened face as he came up beside Wilbur to watch.

Wilbur, once again, got to work, taking the brush off of the table. He began to gently untangle the rat's nest that was his twin's hair. It was a soothing, repetitive motion, and he could almost convince himself that he was just a young lad again, sitting in front of the fire as Phil read a book on his leather armchair, back in their first home.

"What the fuck did you even do to your hair?" Tommy interrupted, softly running a hand through a silky smooth portion of pink.

"Slept," Techno grunted.

"The Nether did you do in your sleep, bitch boy?"

"Buzz off."

"Buzz off? _Buzz off?_ What are you? Five?"

"Alright girls," Wilbur laughed. "Enough of the catfight." They both grumbled like petulant children, but shut up nevertheless.

"Now, Toms, watch closely," he smiled as he began to separate Techno's hair into four sections- three for the man braid, and a smaller one on the right side of his head, for another plait.

He hummed as he worked, deft fingers moving much slower than usual as he pointed out every action he took, Tommy, for once, listening intently. Techno relaxed at the familiar motions. His tense shoulders slumping, and even his posture relaced, becoming comfortable rather than the rigidity that he usually kept up. He tied it off at the end with another hair tie, and gently turned Techno's head to the side so he could work on the smaller braid.

"This one's a bit different, Tommy. Because all the hair is attached directly to his head, you have to work the hair a bit differently," he instructed the teen who was still watching intently. He nodded his head, his wide, baby blue eyes reminding him of the times before he had reached the double digits. Tommy had always loved anything Wilbur had done, observing with rapt attention, ocean gaze practically sparkling in awe- even if it was just watching him cook breakfast.

He quickly finished the braid, pinning it when it ended as it reached the man on, and then he was done. He clapped an ashen had on Techno's shoulder, the piglin hybrid stretching as he got up.

"Go get dressed, ya big oaf," Wilbur chuckled. Techno only hummed in acknowledgment, too relaxed to give a proper response before making his way back to his room. It was a welcome change, though, after seeing him so high strung for so long.

"That goes for you, too, mister," he pointed accusingly at an offended looking Tommy. "Don't think I'll let you get away with staying in your night clothes just because you're cute."

"I am not cute!" the teen squawked. "I'm a very big man, thank you very much, and big men are _not_ cute!" His chest was puffed like a startled finch, and his face was beetroot red. It was comically adorable, and Wilbur wanted to pinch his cheeks and coo at him. And well, no one had ever said that he had good self control when it came to pissing off Tommy, so that he did.

"Get your grimy hands off of me, old man!" Tommy shrieked, swatting indignantly at the hands that had cupped his face. Wilbur just laughed heartily, roping the boy into a hug. He pressed his flushed face against his sweater clad chest, cradling the back of his head. He rested his cheek against Tommy's blonde curls, letting his protests die down and peace settle over them. He felt the teen reluctantly hug back, mumbling under his breath about 'no good ghosts' as he fisted the back of his coat.

"Sweet boy," he hummed absently. "Darling baby boy. Bastard child. Filthy gremlin."

"Bitch," Tommy mumbled back, burying his face further into the plush material of his canary jumper.

"Now," He pushed Tommy away from him, smiling softly at the muted red that crawled up his cheekbones. "Go get dressed. I set an outfit out for you at the end of your bed, earlier."

"'M not a child!" He whined, but stomped off towards his room nonetheless.

Wilbur grinned to himself letting the silence wash over him. He could hear the flutter of pages offer the crackle of the hearth, Fundy reading as he watched over their 'guests." He could hear the gentle thuds of Techno's feet as he walked around his room upstairs, and if he listened close enough, he could hear Tommy grumbling to himself as he struggled with the clasps of his outfit. It was a welcome bliss after the shit show that had been the previous day.

He stretched, although there was no reason to. (It's not like ghosts had joints or muscles." He then made his way over to the sitting room, leaning against the doorway as he watched Fundy flip another page in the well worn book he was reading. He had reading glasses perched on his nose, and his expression was squished ever so slightly in concentration. His heart was full of warmth and love for his oldest son. He felt as if he could gaze upon the scene forever, but his staring was noticed, and the shifter set his book down and laid his glassed upon it.

"Hey, dad," Fundy smiled from the armchair he rested in.

"Hey, Funds," he whispered back, moving to sit on the arm of the seat.

"Everything alright?" He asked, carding a hand through smooth ginger locks. Fundy's ear twitched as he leaned into the touch, and Wilbur could feel his heart warm impossible more.

"Yeah. Phil was twitching earlier, but that was it. I don't see them realistically sleeping for much longer, though."

"You're probably right. It's already past noon."

Like magic, Phil's wings began to twitch, and Wilbur sucked in a tense breath. ( _Was he ready to face him? Ready to confront their rocky relationship and what had happened after? Did he have the heart?_ ) Phil groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. Logically, Wilbur knew that he would have to confront the man ( _Father?_ ) eventually, but for now, he stayed stock still, as if the avian was a predator that needed movement to hunt.

Fundy was the one to get up and approach Phil first. He kneeled next to where Phil was perched on a cot, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Phil," Fundy greeted softly. Phil moved his arm, blinking groggily up at the fox.

"Fundy?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Here." Fundy handed him a glass of water that was sitting nearby, helping Phil sit up and sip the drink slowly.

"How are you feeling?" Fundy asked after Phil had come to full awareness.

"I've had worse," the avian chuckled, but it was hollow sounding. Fundy looked at him pointedly, and Wilbur gulped. He was saved, thankfully, by Tommy barging into the room with all the graze of a ravager in pursuit of prey. His mouth was open in the beginning of a call, likely for Wilbur, but snapped it shut upon realizing Phil was awake.

"Oh," he said instead, eloquent as ever.

"Hello, Toms," Phil rasped, a hesitant smile on his scruffy face.

"'Ello. 'Ow do?" Tommy replied on autopilot, still frozen in the doorway. Wilbur would like to pretend that he was of use when Tommy turned his gaze to him, but he was just as lost as the blonde was. They stared at each other, eyes wide, unblinking as they both tried to process the fact that Phil was no longer unconscious. Now, they had to acknowledge that he was here, and that didn't bode well for their carefully crafted, cottagecore reality.

Their staring caught Phil's attention, however, and Fundy just sighed wearily as the man turned to face Wilbur.

"Hello, Wil," the avian smiled sadly. Wilbur just remained frozen as oxygen stuttered in his ghastly chest and his vision tunneled until he could only see Phil.

In a panic, he fled the room, turning invisible on a whim, and crash landed in Techno's room. His brother startled, still in the process of clasping his cloak over his shoulders. Now, it was Techno's turn to stare wide eyed at Wil.

"Phil's awake," He wheezed, leaning further into the bed frame behind him, clutching his charcoal hair tightly. He buried his face in his knees, desperately trying to get the air he needed into his collapsing lungs. He flinched when he felt his twin's heat hand on his shoulder, before leaning forward and shoving his face into the piglin's shoulder.

"T-Tech," He stuttered, grasping the blue cloth of his uniform in shaking fists.

"C'mon, Wilbs. Deep breath in, yeah," Techno rumbled, rubbing a gentle hand over his back.

"I don't- can't-"

"Just try for me, okay? Try it for Toms and Funds."

He took a rattling breath, the air getting stuck in his throat and coughed out as a broken sob. Techno just hummed in encouragement, never ceasing his shooting circles.

"Techie _can't_ ," he choked, oxygen swirling in his chest like a bonfire. It was as if his body was setting each breath alight, rending it useless in fueling his body. He knew, logically, that he didn't _need_ to breathe to survive (exist? He's _dead_.) but the idea that he had to spend the rest of eternity in this endless cycle of pain and suffering terrified him. ( _He deserved it. Notch, did he deserve it. He blew up his country. His home. Set his people on a path of eternal destruction. Left his boys all alone to face the terror he had wrought and all that he had refused to take down with him. He's **selfish.**_ )

"C'mon, Wil. Try again." He shook in his brother's hold, but tried to suck another breath down nevertheless. This time, he was able to swallow it down long enough for it to reach his lungs, but it was soon exhaled in a breathy wheeze.

"You're doing good. Just keep going, okay?" He was trying. _He was trying_. But it _hurt_. He thought he was done with fire and brimstone once the cool clutches of the afterlife had claimed his battery would, but here he was, burning alive (dead?) without a single flame to blame or put out. He tried for his brother, though, for his sons who still needed him. So he inhaled. And he exhaled. And he did it again and again, until the embers in his chest cooled to a dull simmer, and the world around him no longer seemed so agonizing.

"Ther we go," Techno hummed, still rubbing a gentle hand over his back.

"'M s'rry," he mumbled into his shoulder. Techno shouldn't have had to deal with him like this. He was being stupid. Overreacting. Phil had just said _'hi'_ to him.

"No," His brother stated bluntly, and Wilbur resigned himself to stay quiet. They sat in the silence for a moment, Wilbur stewing in his own guilt and bitter resentment, before Techno spoke again.

"You know you'll have to face him eventually."

"I know."

"I'll be there with you, this time. I won't leave you alone, if you want to try now."

"Promise you won't leave?" He murmured, clutching the arctic uniform even tighter in his shaking hands.

"I promise."

Wilbur really didn't want to leave the safety of his twin's embrace. Leaving meant having to go back downstairs to face a conscious Phil. Facing a conscious Phil meant finding out what happened. Acknowledging the demons of his past that he hadn't been able to exorcise. It meant facing the fact that he _missed_ Phil more than anything. Craved the fatherly love and affection that he hadn't had for so long.

He felt Techno shift, preparing to get up, and Wilbur panicked. He clung tighter, nearly throwing himself on the piglin.

"Don't!" He whimpered. He wasn't ready. Not yet. (Not ever.)

"Right, um," Techno stuttered, awkwardly patting his back. "Just- just a few more minutes, yeah?"

"Mhm," Wilbur nodded, hands trembling at the idea that he couldn't exist in this sense of warmth, safety, and comfort forever.

"Tech I don't wanna. Tech I _can't_ ," he interjected after a moment. The embers in his chest were threatening to reignite, and he wasn't sure he could handle being trapped by that breathless, incriminating cycle again.

"You can, Wil. You made a country from nothing, all while raising two children. This is nothing in comparison, right?" Techno _did_ have a point, even if he sounded like he would rather be anywhere else.

"Yeah," he mumbled, finally looking up at his brother. His ruby eyes were kind, if a bit distant (but that was just Technoblade. He was never very emotionally fluent.) His pink hair was still neatly pulled back in the braid he had done, and the sense of familiarity helped to calm him further.

"Yeah, okay."

"Let's go greet that old bastard," Techno chuckled.

"Okay. Okay," Wilbur paused. "You won't leave me alone?"

"Never again. I promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait TwT I didn't mean to take so long TwT


	9. blue whispers or razor sharp threats?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren't okay, but they would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the ~angst~ I promised uwu

"Hi, Phil," Wilbur muttered, clutching Techno's hand in his own tightly.

Tommy was sat next to Fundy, so close to the shifter, it was a miracle that they weren't touching. He looked both exhausted and relieved, while Fundy just looked so done with everything that he had passed into an alternate reality.

"Hello, Wilbur," Phil smiled softly, like he was approaching a timid animal. It nearly made him bristle, but he held back, ducking his head low, shuffling in place. Techno shoved him forward and Wilbur grumbled petulantly.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, keeping up the small talk, as if it would save him from having to address the situation in its entirety.

"I'm alright. Are you okay, Wil?" It was meant to placate, but his shoulders rose all the same, the ends of his slightly pointed ears twitching in annoyance.

"Whatever," he huffed, receiving a swat from Techno in retaliation.

"I'm okay," Wilbur sighed, fiddling with the fur trim of his brother's uniform.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"What happened?" Tommy blurted, tired of being left out of the conversation with curiosity licking at his mind like an untamed flame. Everyone tensed, and he's sure even Tommy was wary of the answer.

"You don't have to worry about it, Toms."

"Dad, _please_ ," Wilbur surprised himself by begging. He let go of Techno's hand to collapse by Phil's cot.

Hesitantly, Phil reached a hand up to card it through his charcoal locks, and Wilbur leaned into it despite the part of his mind that wanted to swat it away and scream profanities at the man he felt he had lost ages ago. He sniffled as familiar talons scraped in all the right spots, ending up with his head pillowed on Phil's lap as he cried.

He felt stupid. It hadn't even been five minutes and he was _already_ crying. Nothing had even been _said_. he was being such a little bitch, but his _dad_ was here, and he didn't hate him. Didn't hate him for pushing him away. Didn't hate him for- for-

"It's okay, Wilbur. I promised I'd be here. Swore I wouldn't disappoint you again."

"Mhm," Wil hummed. Snot dribbled out of his nose as salty waves of tears stung his eyes and rolled down his ashen cheeks, but Phil didn't mind, even as the fabric of his bants was soaked. The hand in his hair never stopped, even as his tears stemmed and tried, crusting the corners of his eyes like he was a child again and he'd been awoken in the middle of the night from a nightmare, only to crawl into Phil's bed, because only dad could make the big, bad monsters that resided in his noggin disappear.

"What happened?" He croaked, feeling Tommy shuffle over and lean against him, a comforting, familiar weight at his side. He peered up at his father, hand squeezing Tommy's pale one tightly for a moment. Techno stood just behind them, his silent presence looming but never leaving- just as he had promised.

Phil sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to get out of telling his story. It was clear that he wasn't averse to it, but he had always treated Tommy as if he couldn't handle things. Tommy deserved to listen, just as much as the rest of them did.

"I went back to L'manburg to retrieve a few items. I wanted to give you space, as well, but I didn't mean to vanish." The unspoken _'again'_ weighed over them all like Herobrine themself was breathing down their necks.

"I wanted- I wanted to show you that I was sorry- am sorry. That I loved you, despite how I had always fucked it up. But-" He paused here, glancing at Tommy, although the blonde didn't look back, instead fiddling with the rubber band that Fundy had tossed his way moments ago. (Fundy knew toms so well. Knew he fidgeted when he was anxious. It made his heart swell with pride and adoration.)

"There was an... altercation." Fundy stiffened at this, ears twitching back and tale stilling for a moment, its sweeping motions stuttering like a broken engine.

"That butcher army came by, threatened to use, ah, _force_ , if I didn't comply and lead them to Tech." Phil looked down, scratching a black talon on the edge of the thin, yellow sheet that rested on his legs.

"I wasn't going to, obviously, even though they were threatening Fundy. Ranboo looked nervous, and I felt assured enough that they wouldn't permanently damage him to stay strong and keep you lot safe."

"They found the compass anyway," Fundy interjected, running his claws through his own fur- a nervous habit he had picked up once he had learned how to control his own shifting. Phil hummed, and the conversation came to a standstill. There was still a question pressing on Wilbur's mind, however, and he had to ask.

"What did you go back for? What was important enough to- to-" he stuttered, his throat closing every time he tried to get the words out. _'To leave us behind again.'_

"My research on resurrection." Phil pulled a thin tome from his inventory. It was well worn, and he could almost _feel_ its age, even from the distance he sat from it. The leather cover (was it leather? It looked... strange. Oh Notch, he hopes that's not _human_.) was flaking here and there, cracking at the edges where it was pulled particularly tightly, and the pages within looked brittle and yellowed beyond compare, even if he could only see the barest edges of them.

"Why?" He choked, clutching his father's pant leg desperately.

"Because killing you was my greatest mistake of all." His icy eyes were an open book, filled with sorry, guild, and an overwhelming hopelessness. It was a look he knew well, having seen it in the mirror more times than he could reasonably count.

"Why'd you never come back?" Wilbur whined, knuckles white in their harsh grip.

"I wanted to. I really did," Phil whispered, as if it were sacred. He felt Tommy grip the edge of his coat, and he blindly reached out for the teen's hand, gripping it like his life depended on it when it was found.

"I was... injured," he said next, drawing a pained gasp from Techno, who still stood behind them in an otherwise stoic silence.

"I was too injured to make it back to the Empire, as we had been outside of the server, at that point. I healed for a long time in a nearby village." He heard Techno sniffle, his booted feet shuffling on the wooden floors. He radiated guilt, and Wilbur wished he could alleve him of it.

"By the time I was okay enough to make it back, the server had closed for reentry. It was dying, and I wasn't allowed back. I tried to contact you, but communication from outside parties was restricted."

Phil might have kept talking, but he couldn't hear it. Instead, static filled his head, along with his own voice screaming at him, echoes of _'it's all your fault'_ bouncing around his ghastly skull. He could faintly feel the way he gripped his arms with ferocity, the way that skin that wasn't really there should have been broken. He could register, on the very edges of his psyche, something falling through him, leaving a cold wave of nausea in its wake. Maybe his head was a little fuzzy right now, but he's sure that that's okay. He wasn't sure why, though.

"Wilbur?" Managed to get through the fog that occupied his head. He landed to the side, seeing Tommy there. It was odd, though. He wasn't in his usual outfit! And where was Tubbo? The two were always together!

"Wilbur's dead, silly!" He giggled, joyous, blue flush returning to his ashen cheeks. "My name's Ghostbur, remember?" He tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy, smiling softly at the blonde teen in front of him.

"Oh! Would you like to go find some blue with me? I feel all icky, but I don't remember why."

"Wilbur, please," Tommy begged, but Ghostbur wasn't sure why.

"I'm not Wilbur. I"m good, yeah? Alivebur is dead! But that's okay. I'm not sure that very many people liked him." He stopped to giggle, absently fiddling with the edge of his yellow sweater.

"Where'd this coat come from?" He asked, running his fingers over the rough material. "It smaller all gross." He wrinkled his nose as the pungent scent of gunpowder reached his senses.

"Wil," Tommy tried again, reaching out to grab his arm. It passed right through him, as all things do, and he grinned.

"I'm a ghost, dummy! Did you forget?" Tommy looked mightily upset at this, his brow furrowed and eyes watery. Did he say something wrong? He didn't mean to be rude!

"That's okay, though!" He rushed. "I forget things all the time and I"m still a-okay!" He waved his hands around, trying his best to placate the blonde boy.

Why was everyone looking at him like that? Did he do something bad? Is that why he feels icky? And why didn't he have any blue on him? He _always_ had some. ( ~~Because there was always a reason to be sad. Always a memory that needed to be forgotten.~~ )

"Well, I'm going to go find more blue! I don't remember running out, but I need to stock up!" He grinned merrily, getting up and floating towards the door. Nobody stopped him, everyone frozen in place. Technoblade didn't even look at him, which he thought was quite rude. He thought that they had had plenty of nice conversations. Maybe it had to do with his sadness? Oh no, he hopes he wasn't rude!

"Wilby?" Tommy whimpered, scrambling after him after breaking out of his stupor.

"Toms, I'm not-"

"Dad, _please_ ," Tommy whined, falling back to his knees in front of his floating form. The word rang with familiarity in his chest, his heart aching with some unexplainable feeling. It felt bittersweet and proud, but it also washed him with this empty, desolate feeling that made him crave his blue even more.

"What are you talking about, Tommy? Dad's back in the sitting room." He frowned at the salty tears that cascaded down his red, blotchy face, another pang shooting through his chest at the sight. Tommy shouldn't cry! There was something in the back of his mind screaming at him, but he couldn't make the words out. Only the vague feeling that Tommy should never cry- especially not because of him.

The others were crowding into the entry hall, now- even Phil, shakey as the injured man was. It was strange, seeing all of them distraught, huddling together like it was the end of the world.

"See, Toms. Dad's right over there." He pointed over towards the group of three, but Tommy didn't listen. He stayed on the ground, shaking his head furiously, sobs racking his thin shoulders. "Oh! Did you want to come find more blue with me? You're welcome to come! The more the merrier, you know?"

"Daddy, _please,_ " he begged again, baby blue eyes flooded with sorrow. "Come back. I don't like you like this. I don't care if you think you're bad! You're always the best, daddy," he sobbed, collapsing fully, face buried in his knees, hunched over, like if he tried to look any bigger, he would crumble completely.

Ghostbur was panicking, to put it lightly. He wasn't sure how to solve all of this sadness. He didn't have any blue, and it seemed that him trying to get some more wasn't any good either. He didn't know what to do, and the thought of things staying like this made a flame alight in his otherwise icy chest. He was just a remnant. A spirit meant to try and atone for the sins of his past. Granted, he couldn't exactly remember anything bad that Alivebur had done and experienced, but he knew that Alivebur wasn't good. If he was, then people would've liked him. Would've given him a grave. Wouldn't scorn his name. But, that was okay! Because Ghostbur would make things right!

He kneeled the best he could in front of the shaking teen, hands hovering over him, unsure what he could do to help. He knew he needed to - wanted to, even- but there was only so much that he could actually do. Tommy looked back up at him, then, eyes full of hope, despite the desolation that also seemed to line his irises.

"Remember the promise you made?" He stared, voice warbling as he talked around his tears. "When we were cold and alone. You said- you said it would always be us." Tommy sniffled, wiping his eyes with his royal blue sleeve. "Us against the world, forever and always. Remember, daddy?"

_"Wilby I'm cold." The blonde shivered in his grasp, the blankets and furs wrapped tightly around them, and even his body head and the roaring fire a scant few blocks away from their bed wasn't enough for the thin boy._

_"I know, bubs. I'm sorry. The sun will rise in a few weeks, though. Doesn't that sound nice?" Tommy would always be his little sun. His little sunshine in a world that was always so dark- literally and metaphorically. Tommy loved the sun, though. Thrived in it. It was like the boy shone even more when graced with the star's fiery beams._

_"Are they ever coming back, Wilby?" Tommy asked, sniffling into his chest. Wilbur could only hold him tighter, cradling him close because no one else would._

_"It doesn't matter. You know why?" He asked. He got a minute shake of the head in response, but he expected it. "Because it's us against the world, forever and always," he promised, ending the phrase with a kiss to the crown of Tommy's head. He swore it until the end of time itself. Nothing could take him away from his boy._

"Bubs?" He murmured, actually managing to make contact with Tommy when he reached out to grab his pale hand.

"Mhm," the blonde hummed in response, a few stray hairs framing his face, having fallen out from the pins that held it back. "It's me, Wilby."

Tommy squeezed his hand back, reaching out to grasp the edge of his coat.

"Do you remember this coat? I got it for you for your birthday. It was just before the elections."

_"Open my present next, Wilby!" Tommy shouted over the quiet chatter. He was clinging onto Fundy's arm, the two smiling wide, like there was nowhere else in the world they'd rather be._

_"Alright, alright!" He laughed, reaching for the shoddily wrapped up of red that rested just next to him._

_He tore it open with care, despite how little clearly went into wrapping it. The first thing he was able to see was a nice, warm brown. He unfolded the article, revealing a neatly stitched trenchcoat. there was a small patch on the inside of the collar, and in mess embroidery, it read 'for Wilby, from Tommyinnit.'_

_He grinned face flushing a warm red. He adored it._

_"Thank you, Toms," he chuckled, clutching the coat to his chest. "I love it."_

_"Fuck yeah!" Tommy yelled, ignoring Bad's call of 'language!' "See, Fundy? I told you my present was better than yours!"_

_"He hasn't seen mine yet, dumbass!"_

_"Who are you calling a dumbass, you fucking ginger!?"_

"The patch fell off in Pogtopia. I begged Techno to sew it back on for three days until he caved," Wilbur whispered. Because he was... he was Wilbur, right?

"Techno complained for days afterwards. Said you were a right prick."

"Mhm," he hummed, nodding along to Tommy's statement. "Made us eat raw potatoes for the next week." He giggled breathily at the memory, although he remembers it being distinctly _unfunny_ at the time.

Tommy raised his hand next, showing Wilbur the back of his own, gray apendage.

"Remember this scar? You got it trying to teach Fundy to fish."

_"See, Funds. You're going to want to hook the bait on the line just like this," he demonstrated what he wanted the shifter to do._

_"Oh! Okay!" Fundy exclaimed, doing his best to copy. The bait ended up being a bit mangled, the fox far too excited and uncoordinated, but it would work well enough. He hoped so, at least._

_"Good job, kiddo." He ruffled his ginger locks._

_"Next, you're going to want to cast your line just like this." He made sure to keep his motions obvious and deliberate, hearing the quiet 'plonk' as it made it into the lake._

_Fundy, bless his heart, tried his best, but, to be fair, the rod was just a bit too big for him. It ended up with the hook in Wilbur's hand, the bait having fallen off the moment it hit his skin, improperly rigged as it was. It stung a little, but it was fine. He'd had much worse than a sliver of metal, after all. Fundy, though, was balling his eyes out, blubbering out near incomprehensible apologies._

_"Hey! Hey, it's alright! No harm done!" He tried to console him, quickly ripping out the hook without caring where it ended up. He cupped his boy's face, the sight of his watery, mahogany eyes breaking his heart even more._

_He tugged his boy close, swaying gently side to side as he let his son calm down in his embrace._

_"Better?" He asked after sobs had turned into sniffles._

_"'M sorry," Fundy mumbled, and Wilbur cooed._

_"None of that, now. It was an accident! I'm not even bleeding- see?" He held his hand in front of the fox's face, letting him see that there was, in fact, not a bloody wound. The fact that it was his uninjured hand was a secret the shifter didn't need to know._

_"Oh."_

_"I told you it was okay," Wilbur teased, wanting to see that bright, fanged smile that always filled his chest to the brim with joy and adoration._

_"Shut up!" Fundy giggled swatting his wrist gently._

_"_ _Can we go swimming now?" He asked after a moment. "I don't wanna fish anymore."_

_"Of course. I"ll get this all put up, and then we can, okay?"_

"You were staying with Niki," Wilbur hummed, fiddling with Tommy's bony fingers. "You had a nasty cold at the time, but didn't want to be the reason Fundy and I didn't get to go out."

"It took three hours to convince you two that I wasn't going to keel over the moment you left."

"You just wanted the chance to have Niki's cooking to yourself. You weren't even that sick, in end."

"Wait, _you knew?_ " Tommy spluttered, crimson crawling up his cheekbones in embarrassment.

"A father always knows," he grinned, Yeah, he was Wilbur. Because Tommy was Wilbur's baby boy. Had been since he had found the kid.

"Dad!" Tommy laughed, wiping the fresh wave of tears out of his eyes, even though they kept falling regardless. "You stupid son of a bitch, actin' like that. Not that I was scared, of course," he rambled, letting himself be wrapped up in Wilbur's tight embrace. "I'm a big man, and big men don't get scared. If I was, that'd make me a pussy bitch, like those assholes over there. And if there is one thing I'm not, it is a pussy."

"Of course, Toms. I didn't raise a pussy bitch," he cut himself off with a chuckle, "now did I?"

"Well, you raised Fundy," Tommy teased, looking back towards where the rest of their makeshift family had congregated.

"You little shit!" Fundy exclaimed wetly, storming up to them before collapsing, burying his face in Wilbur's shoulder. Wil just roped him into the hug as well, squeezing both of his boys close.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to each of their heads.

"Who doesn't?" Tommy bragged, and Wilbur couldn't help but cackle, especially when Fundy shoved him away hard enough to cause the blonde to topple over.

"Oh, you absolute bitch!" He shrieked, immediately hopping up and tackling his brother. He let the two squabble, knowing from plenty of previous experience that they wouldn't truly harm one another. (He could recall the one time Fundy had accidentally cut Tommy's cheek with one of his claws like it was yesterday. It wasn't bad, and Tommy had only cried because it had scared him, but still, the shifter wouldn't even touch his brother for days, too afraid he'd do it again.)

He watched, silently, as the others hobbled over to him, nerves present in every line of their bodies. Surprisingly, Techno was the first to speak.

"You made me promise that I wouldn't leave, and yet, you're the one who left." It was said with a snort, but he could see the way his hands shook, fingers twitching, aching for something to squeeze or hit

"I know. I"m sorry," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the shrieking and shouts of the wrestling duo.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Phil apologized next, falling to his knees.

It was stupid and far too childish for his years, but suddenly he wished Phil would wrap him up in his arms and wings like he was a child. Cradle him close and hide him from the world, nothing but his father's heartbeat and the steady, rise and fall of his chest to occupy his mind. It had been so long, and he was so _tired_ of being angry.

"Can I hug you?" Phil asked, as if he had read his mind. He nodded his head frantically, already falling forward into the avian's awaiting embrace.

It was everything he wanted and so much more. The hands that gripped him were strong, and the mighty wings he had always adored cradled him close, hiding him away from the world and anything that could think to harm him. Phil's strong, steady heartbeat echoed through his head, a reminder that he was here, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

He could hear his sons quiet down, but he didn't much care at the moment as to why. His father was holding him, and despite the parts of his mind that screamed at him to bite and punch and kick and scream, he just wanted to stay here forever. He was tired, lonely, and desperate for the fatherly affection he had been starved of for so long.

Still, a more traitorous part of his brain, one that sounded suspiciously like his ghastly counterpart, argued that he didn't deserve this. He had been the one to push everyone away, in the end. He had been the reason that Techno had to leave. That Phil had to follow and get _hurt_. He was the reason that Tommy grew up without a proper father, having to rely on his dumb older brother, hardly out of his teenage years. He was the reason that his once great sanctuary was in shambles, hundreds left without house or home. He was the reason Fundy had abandonment issues, his father flakey at the best of times, and mother too inhuman to care. He _left_ his boys alone in the wake of his terror. He pushed Phil away after he _finally_ had what he wanted in his grasp. He's the reason Phil got hurt. The reason a _child_ is sat in the sitting room, unconscious and barely alive.

"I'm sorry," He sobbed, clutching onto Phil's green cloak like his life depended on it. He meant it, truly, even though he knew that words meant nothing in the face of all that he had done. He was a monster, and everyone knew it. (Even his other half.)

"None of that, now," Phil cooed, talons scraping over his scalp once more. Wilbur melted, even though he felt that he didn't deserve it.

He felt like a child again, being held securely after a scare from a mob, being promised safety and love for the rest of time.

_"Nothing will ever get to you, not while I'm here, my little firecracker."_

_"Promise, papa?"_

_"I promise. Me and Techie will protect you until the end of time."_

"I'm sorry, papa," He whispered into his father's shoulder.

"No, my little firecracker. _I'm_ sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally acknowledging that Wilbur's Tommy's dad pog 
> 
> also yes I FINALLY brought in the concept of Ghostbur being unintentionally bad that I'd been hinting at vaguely; I was SO EXCITED to finally write it


End file.
